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Crescent Mountain
Crescent Mountain
Crescent Mountain
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Crescent Mountain

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Taking a 3 week European vacation following his divorce, Harry Woolrich is confronted with massive piles of rubbish due to a garbage collectors strike in Italy and threats of similar actions in other countries. A chance meeting with a wind analytics expert lures Harry into a new venture of storing mountains of rubbish and turning it into a profit making exercise in a remote Saharan country despite threats of terrorist interventions.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherDavid Hardham
Release dateJul 15, 2016
ISBN9781311320797
Crescent Mountain
Author

David Hardham

David Hardham was born and raised in Melbourne and has worked in the IT industry all his working life including stints in London, Singapore and South Africa. He has travelled extensively, both within Australia as well as many European and Asian countries. In his early twenties, David crossed the entire African continent by road from North to South.

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    Book preview

    Crescent Mountain - David Hardham

    CRESCENT MOUNTAIN

    By

    David Hardham

    * * * *

    PUBLISHED BY:

    David Hardham on Smashwords

    Crescent Mountain

    Copyright 2016 by David Hardham

    * * * *

    All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    * * * *

    Acknowledgements

    Please note that I use Australian spelling throughout. You will see doubled letters (e.g. focussed), ou’s (e.g. colour) and ‘re’ (centre) as well as a few other differences from American spelling.

    I thank those who have supported and encouraged me in continuing my endeavours as an author especially to Deb who has had to contend with my time spent engrossed in these works as well as her proof-reading.

    Linguistic Humour from a supposed National Literary competition

    The National Poetry Contest had come down to two semi-finalists: a Yale graduate and a redneck from Wyoming. They were given a word, then allowed two minutes to study the word and come up with a poem that contained the word. The word they were given was Timbuktu.

    First to recite his poem was the Yale graduate. He stepped to the microphone and said:

    Slowly across the desert sand

    Trekked a lonely caravan.

    Men on camels, two by two

    Destination---Timbuktu.

    The crowd went crazy! No way could the redneck top that, they thought. The redneck calmly made his way to the microphone and recited:

    Me and Tim a-huntin went,

    Met three whores in a pop up tent.

    They was three, and we was two,

    So I bucked one, and Timbuktu.

    The redneck won hands down!

    ****

    CRESCENT MOUNTAIN

    Chapter 1

    It wasn’t until the final week of his three week holiday that Harry Woolrich encountered the enormous garbage problem that he had read about. On every street corner there was an ever growing mountain of plastic bags filled with household food scraps and general rubbish. The smell was horrible and becoming worse with every passing day and the heat of the European summer only exacerbated it. His visit to Venice was where it initially came to light and now several days later in Florence it was nearing breakpoint.

    The strike by the Italian garbage collectors was two weeks old and affected every city and town across the country. It wasn’t the workers themselves who initiated the stop work but it was the central collection depot management who controlled the waste sites around the country where all the country’s rubbish was finally laid to rest. The main site was full. In fact it was overflowing having reached its capacity a month before. The depot owners had no choice but to close it and that left the country with a massive dilemma of what to do with the constant influx of garbage.

    This capacity limitation had been recognised a year ago but the politicians had seemingly ignored it, hoping the problem would go away. It was only now that a crisis point had been reached that it was being addressed.

    But the problem wasn’t confined to Italy. Several other European countries were facing the same issue and no-one seemed to have a long term solution. Sure, a few of the countries had well managed recycling plants and had seemingly solved the garbage problem but even many of those countries would be reaching saturation point for their non-recyclables in the next decade or so.

    Other than the inconvenience of the rubbish piles, not to mention the smell, the visitors flocking to the tourist sites didn’t care or rather, they may have cared but it wasn’t their problem. At the end of his third day in Florence, Harry came face to face with the problem as bags of rubbish had begun piling up at the entrance to the hotel where he was staying.

    Very ugly and smelly! he said to the doorman who ushered him past the pile of rotting food.

    Yes, the rats will be out shortly, which will be a bigger problem the doorman replied. I hope the dispute is settled quickly he added.

    Because of the unpleasant smells from the rubbish, Harry preferred dining at the hotel rather than one of the more interesting local restaurants and his mind started contemplating what he would do if he had to solve the garbage problem.

    ‘Find an isolated wasteland miles, or rather hundreds of miles, from civilisation, where it all could be transported to and dumped’ he thought to himself. ‘It would need to be accessible by road or rail or both, have a sufficiently large area to cater for decade upon decade of waste, not affect any underground water supply and ideally be put to some other use. The pungent odours of decaying food would need to be contained or nullified by some means. If I was to think of a region, then most, if not all of Europe, would be eliminated due to overcrowding and a shortage of vacant usable land. Asia could be a possibility such as the Middle East or perhaps parts of China but their population explosion would probably rule them out if the distance to get there didn’t. Siberia perhaps but the ice and snow and the frozen tundra in winter may be too big a hurdle to overcome. That leaves Africa or more specifically, the Sahara. It would mean two modes of transport, shipping from a European port to a North African port, then road or rail to the waste site. Rail might be an issue as I don’t know what rail lines go south and as for the roads, who would know as to their state and condition. Okay, so what part of the Sahara would it be? It’s a massive area, the size of Australia, Europe or the USA and I have no idea of what roads go where. Still, it would be a possibility.’

    ‘Why am I thinking of all this’ his brain said back to him. ‘Seems I can’t help myself, plus, I really do need to do something.’

    Having sold his lucrative consulting business two months ago for what he considered an exorbitant price, he didn’t need to work but at the same time, he knew he couldn’t sit around doing nothing. That is why he embarked on this three week sortie to France, Switzerland, Austria and Italy once he had finalised the handover of the business to the new owners. He had visited these countries years ago and had wanted to revisit some of the cities as well as venture into new territories he had only dreamed about. Divorced twelve months ago because his wife had found someone new as he was never at home due to business commitments, his life was now basically his own to choose. They had not had children, a decision both had willingly agreed to, and at the age of 51 he considered that he had led a great life. His holiday trip was coming to an end; this night was his last in Florence before heading to Milan for two nights then catching the flight back to Australia.

    It was a fitful night’s sleep. For some reason he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head about the garbage and how to solve the disposal question. Even the next day during the train journey to Milan he was thinking about the options and how to overcome the obstacles. He had deduced in his own mind that the Saharan option was the way to go and he had begun writing notes on what to do and how to go about it. Although basically ignoring his fellow passengers he was still aware the main topic of conversation amongst his fellow train travellers related to the rubbish strike.

    Arriving at the business and fashion capital of Italy, news had quickly spread that the strike was over much to the relief of all. Checking into his hotel, even the concierge spoke about it.

    The problem resolved? asked Harry as he checked in.

    Well, yes and no answered the friendly woman at the check-in counter in perfect English. The strike is over but it is only a temporary fix. The Government has agreed to use a vacant plot of land near the existing tip, but it will only last for about one year before it too, is full. A long term solution is still needed.

    Harry thanked the woman and went to his room. Instead of going out and playing tourist, Harry stayed in his hotel room making more notes of what to do. He used the internet to look at maps of both Europe and Africa and formulated the ideal ports to ship from and to. The best location in the Sahara was another matter. He knew very little about the demographics but concluded that anywhere from southern Libya to the west coast would work assuming any political issues could be resolved. It was late afternoon before he ventured out of his room and headed to the main foyer to seek out the concierge.

    If I wanted to talk to a Government official about a long term solution to the garbage problem, who would I go to?

    The concierge looked at Harry as if Harry was mad.

    His name is in all the papers came the reply and proceeded to produce a copy of the daily newspaper. His finger pointed to the name that was on the front page underneath his photo.

    How do I contact him?

    You can call him, but it may be easier to visit him. His office is here in Milan. Let me write the details.

    The concierge handed Harry the address along with a map showing him where it was located. With this information Harry felt an urge to visit the Government Office immediately but it would have to wait until tomorrow as the building would now be closed, re-opening at 9am. Being only a short walk from the hotel made it even more compelling for a personal visit.

    It was too early for dinner and he had already spent the afternoon in his hotel room so he decided to kill some time in the lounge bar area that was adjacent to the main foyer. At least he could people watch which was a favourite pastime of his whenever and wherever he travelled. He found a comfortable seat that was close to the outside window offering a view of passer-by’s as well as a vantage point to watch people entering and exiting the hotel. He ordered a drink and relaxed gazing at nothing in particular, oblivious to anyone around him, allowing his mind to process what he was considering and how he would make a suggestion to the Minister.

    Is anyone sitting here?

    It was a woman who had approached where he was sitting but Harry had not noticed her. Harry gazed up at her in a semi-dream like state.

    Oh, no, sorry, I was miles away.

    I get like that when I want to sit and forget.

    Harry recognised the accent as British and well spoken. She appeared to be in her late forties with neat dark hair cut just above her shoulders, slim and elegantly dressed in a dark blue business skirt and jacket with a cream blouse as she smiled at him. The waiter arrived and she ordered a gin and tonic.

    This damned garbage strike is a real mess, excuse the pun she said initiating a conversation.

    The conversation flowed continuously as they exchanged information about each other. Harry explained that he was on a vacation and learned that her name was Kate, she was an Analyst specialising in erosion and was in Milan for a conference where she was presenting on the effects of damage to both natural and man-made structures caused by wind and pollution. She had been educated at Oxford University and had her own consulting company which meant she was on never ending trips abroad for assessments of the impact of high rise buildings in confined city spaces and the wind tunnels they created. She also made recommendations to farmers for establishing wind breaks on properties that were exposed to the elements and preferred natural barriers such as trees to walls and fences.

    Being on the road all the time is a killer for a family life volunteered Harry.

    That is for sure she replied. My marriage broke up because I was never home and we never got around to having children.

    Same here.

    I must be boring you with all this work talk.

    Not at all, in fact you may be able to help me.

    In what way?

    Harry went on to explain his solution to the waste problem that engulfed Italy and most European countries. By this time they were on their second drink and both felt comfortable talking.

    I had never really thought much about it until this trip and I saw the effects the strike had and the mounting piles of rubbish bags. If it were possible to transport all the garbage to the Sahara somewhere, what I want to know is where would be the best place to create a dump and what effect it would have on the surrounding areas. You mentioned that you provide analysis for pollution and wind tunnels, is there anything you can suggest?

    That’s a tall order. How much rubbish are we talking of?

    I have no real idea other than a lot, if you know what I mean.

    I get the general idea. Would you have it spread out over a large area or piled high in a more confined area?

    It could be either, any advantages of one over the other?

    Spread out is probably easier to manage, assuming you have the space. Putting it into a big pile could provide a windbreak or a barrier against drifting sands. It would probably depend upon how high you want to go or can go. Having a huge pile of waste is a bit of an eyesore but if it is the middle of the desert it probably doesn’t matter. And what about other concerns such as rotting foods, vermin and the like. How would you control that?

    I don’t know, as I said in the beginning, it is just a basic thought, maybe even a pipedream but it gives me a project to work on even if it is theoretical. With your knowledge of wind currents and the like, is it possible to check on the various major zones and see if any area would or could benefit and similarly if any area is a no-go zone?

    I can look into it and it does sound very intriguing. Tomorrow morning is out as I have the conference to attend but I have a free afternoon and I am not flying out until the day after.

    "Same with me, perhaps we could do dinner tomorrow night and you could tell me what you have found. In fact I am getting a little peckish now, how about

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