Category: Europe
Slaughter
29th February 2024 Network Rail has been busy cutting down trees beside the Macclesfield stretch of the West Coast Mainline. The result is not pretty and affects a nearby walking route that I often use; death is everywhere to be seen. Many tree trunks have been denuded and left to look lifeless; others have been cut away to the top of their rootstock as if to finish them off. If life restarts on the former, the devastation may be softened, but that is not within sight just yet. It perhaps is too early in the year for that.
While I can understand that windthrow is a problem for trees next to a railway line during stormy weather (my recollection of the aftermath of Storm Gerrit makes me appreciate that), the devastating aftermath of the ongoing cutting looked sad to my eyes. It is one thing to trim back overgrown vegetation, but this is something else.
Shelter was removed, and it may be that walkers do not need such a clear view of the railway anyway; most of us are not train enthusiasts or spotters in any case. It all caused a trail that has something of a bucolic aspect to appear more industrial than it used to do. One wonders what that does to the attractiveness of the amenity in the long run.
The time of year hardly helps, with all the leafless trees and bare ground after the winter. When you hear any birdsong, it all sounds all the more poignant when you realise that bird nesting sites are being toppled. Maybe things will look less brutal during the coming growing season.
For now, though, there is a lot of carnage that needs healing. At times during my life, I have had my misgivings about tree cover when seeking photos of scenic spots, yet that is not how I feel about this ongoing aftermath. Anytime that I hear chainsaws working is sickening to my sensibility at the moment; it heralds destruction for me.
Consolidation
27th February 2024 The magazines Cumbria and Lakeland Walker have been combined, a move that makes me wonder about the wisdom of remaining a subscriber. The strictures at the height of the pandemic saw me subscribe to a number of magazines, mainly to cut down on shop visits and also to contribute to keeping them going through a tough time. Lakeland Walker was one of these and had its uses for getting ideas for Cumbrian outings, especially among the Lakeland fells.
Since then, there have been a number of changes. Firstly, the world has turned against plastic, so many magazines are mailed in paper envelopes, not the best for keeping them dry during some of the deluges that have beset us during the last twelve months. My preference is for waterproof wrapping materials derived from plant matter, which some have been using.
What once was a title printed on A4 paper now is part of a combined title printed on what appears to be A5 paper, an increase in the size of the once smaller format Cumbria magazine, though. So, we have the perhaps clumsily titled Cumbria and Lakeland Walker magazine. In some ways, the combination is reminiscent of The Scots Magazine, which also has an outdoors section, albeit without maps. Thus, the merged entity can work and there may be a finite number of walking ideas among the Lakeland fells anyway.
Lakeland Walker had lost its long term editor John Manning too, so there may have been editorial instability. Only time will tell how things will out for the new title and if I remain a subscriber, for there can be too many magazines and not enough time to read them all. Current market conditions are challenging anyway, which ultimately may explain the merger.
More time in Ireland
26th February 2024 Currently, I am a freelancer between contracts and that gives me some more time to attend to my Irish affairs as well as getting some added rest. Thus, I was in Ireland for a two-week stint, trying to buy somewhere that my brother and I can use once we have disposed of another house that I inherited.
Such is the business of viewing property that there was some downtime too, and I also needed to clear my head of any confusion caused by estate agent patter. The weather may have been mixed, but there were drier interludes too. Sometimes, you also need to walk during periods of dampness, especially if there is a mind to rest.
Before all the property hunting, a sunny day was enough to return me to Blarney after a break of several decades. Thankfully, they have made the way down from the top of the castle to follow an easier route, which is just as given the steepness of the way up. On a previous visit with my father, the arrangement may have been reversed, which did not help for an easy descent for someone unaccustomed to heights. At the time, I genuinely thought we were going the wrong way. Kissing the Blarney stone was not an option, though added eloquence could have its uses...
The castle was not the only attraction, though; this is just as well, given the €20 entry fee. There are many paths through parkland, especially areas with more attention to their layout. For those, the word labyrinth may not be such a ridiculous description. There is a longer through woodland that circuits a lake for those fancying added quietude. It all ensured that value for money could be sought.
The city of Cork is not without its amenity walks, either. Old railway lines have been converted into Greenways that came in handy for surveying property locations as well as getting in some coastal walking. Others choose to cycle or jog along these too, so they certainly are multipurpose. One starts near Páirc Uí Chaoimh and continues past Rochestown to finish at Passage West, though you can continue to Monkstown too. This even allows a crossing to Great Island, allowing for a stroll from Cork city centre to Cobh. That was how it happened for me on one of the days, and another sunny morning drew me out to Blackrock Castle as well.
There are yet unrealised ambitions for a full Cork Harbour Greenway, extending from the city's Marina as far afield as Carrigaline and Crosshaven. The missing piece is between Passage West and Carrigaline, yet the Greenway between Carrigaline and Crosshaven has its uses as it shadows the course of the Owenboy River as well as the road between the two places. Crosshaven has Camden Fort Meagher as well as a few coastal paths, so that may make the quieter option should you desire it.
Fort Wildlife Park draws many to Fota Island, a possibility by train that uses the line between Cork and Cobh. There also is Fota House, which is currently under restoration, and its associated gardens. All served a purpose on a day with its share of dampness before the afternoon grew drier. The wildlife was the basis of a school tour for me many years ago, yet that did not stop another visit that was extended to get the most value from the €20 entry fee. The gardens around Fota House saw another visit on a sunnier day that was not without rain showers. Even so, there were more chances for some photography and that was enough to lure me to Cobh again.
My travels did not stay around Cork all the while. Youghal got a brief visit, as did Waterford. The first was mainly a leisure pursuit, while the second involved some property reconnaissance. There was none of that during a day trip to Killarney that needed later bus connections for a return to Cork. My wanderings had eaten up more time than I had intended on a circuit around Muckross Lake. There were designs on an alternative excursion to Glengarriff, but the ticket machine convinced me that this was not possible. That was just as well, since it felt like too much of a risk anyway, especially I need to do something on the day after.
So far, my trip to Ireland appears to be serving its main purpose, and it was good to revisit old haunts and explore new places as well. Apart from a stiff ascent near Killarney or getting to and from the shoreline near Crosshaven, gradients were a less significant feature of any strolling. Nevertheless, the mix was welcome; you cannot be attending to business matters all the time in any case.
Thinly spread
15th February 2024 There is a saying or proverb in the Irish language that becomes the following when translated into English: the sandpiper cannot attend to two beaches. This and other pieces of wisdom are to be found in The Little Book of Celtic Mindfulness. In fact, the title likely is a misnomer, at least to me, for wisdom fits the contents better than mindfulness, though the greater fashionability of the latter possibly won out in this case.
As someone who has divided his life between different places for so long, the phrase with which I open this piece resonates more easily with me. With family remaining in Ireland and work taking me to the U.K., there always has been a sense of there being different shores. Add explorations across two different continents to the mix, and you very easily can end up without a sense of permanent abode.
Maybe that is one meaning of the Christian wisdom about gaining the world only to lose one's soul, even if the idea of pilgrimage is baked into that tradition as well. Sometimes, too much application of logic and reason to the ways of life can show you that nothing retains self-consistency, no matter how hard you try.
There is something ongoing in my life at the moment that reinforces the opening point. It causes me to remain focussed on that, so I cannot go further afield, Nevertheless, there remain opportunities for wandering that I can take, and their descriptions may follow at another time. Whenever the weather offers, my body goes wandering too.
Thinking back to last year, my wandering took me to Ireland, Scotland, Wales, the Channel Islands, France and California. This is quite unlike the pandemic years that grounded me in my local area, allowing for many deeper explorations. That is being rested these days when I can see other parts. North America remains tempting, as does seeing more of Scotland. Other places may feature yet because life's plans cannot be set in the stone. The explorations continue.
A Scottish winter festive escapade centred around Edinburgh and Aviemore
20th January 2024 For various reasons, there has been a festive season getaway for me since 2018/9 when I spent the New Year period on Tenerife. 2019/20 was forestalled by the need to secure some freelance work, and the pandemic intruded after that. Thus, it was not before time that I did something different for the time of year.
So, I stayed in Edinburgh around Christmas before moving to Aviemore for a stay around the New Year period. The forecast was not promising, and hence I kept my expectations low, which was just as well given that only one day came sunny while I was in the Scottish capital. Even with rain and showers, I pottered by the Water of Leith, while the best day was spent going up and down various members of the Pentland Hills: Capelaw Hill, Allermuir Hill and Caerketton Hill. These had not been traipsed since August 2008, and I thought it to be a good idea for a short winter's day with some ice on the ground and a sprinkling of what looked like snow on the tops.
The arrival of Storm Gerrit made the transfer to Aviemore more challenging. Having got as far as Perth, I ended up returning to Edinburgh for a rethink because of a closed railway line and a flooded road. Handily, the hotel in Aviemore altered my booking for me, and I was able to find a humble abode elsewhere where I could regroup. The next day, I embarked on a lengthy if uncertain journey around Scotland to reach Aviemore. The first leg was by coach to Aberdeen before catching a crowded double-decker bus to Inverness. The latter thankfully got less busy after Huntly, but seeing a southbound railway departure from Inverness started to make me concerned about progress. Everything was OK in the end, though the timing was tighter than I would have liked. What might have been a three-hour journey became more than three times that length; though not waiting for news on railway reopening could have got me on a coach instead, thus avoiding the need to go the long way around.
Thankfully, the weather was less intrusive while I was in Aviemore. A hike into Glen Eanaich followed my gallivanting around Scotland. There was some sunshine too, which was a bonus. Any designs on reaching Loch Eanaich were forestalled by the amount of water flowing in burns; it is one thing to chance a difficult crossing on a one-way passage, but doing it on an out and back hike is quite another matter. In the event, I did not feel denied, though previous thoughts of doing the journey by bicycle evaporated from my mind. The hike is one that I fancy repeating when the waters are lower.
The prospect of rain and the need to attend to a matter lured me to Inverness the next day. What followed was some traipsing along the banks of the River Ness and the Caledonian Canal. The dafter idea of walking as far as the shore of Loch Ness was stopped by a wrong turning that instead sent me to the shore of the Beauly Firth at Clachnaharry. On the day, I thought that just as well, and I picked up on the idea a few days later. Then, I watched my navigation and got as far as Lochend with a walk along the side of the A82 that I had no appetite for repeating. Otherwise, there was much to savour and other ideas like walking to Inverness from Drumnadrochit using the Great Glen Way or checking out the South Loch Ness Trail got deposited into my mind.
Before this, I walked from Kingussie to Aviemore using sections of the Speyside Way as well as the East Highland Way. There was some sunshine but plenty of cloudiness too. Initial progress along the Speyside Way was at a sensible pace, until fallen trees made getting through Inshriach Forest more challenging than anticipated. Crossing one or two fallen trees at a time is one thing, but if five or ten come down together, heading back to a minor road makes a deal of sense. It might have been my stubbornness, but I continued around or over any obstacles in my way. Instead of continuing to Kincraig, I turned for Feshiebridge from where I continued by Moor of Feshie towards Loch Gamhna and Loch an Eilean, where the light really started to fail for the day. Being on familiar ground and having a head torch meant that encroaching darkness was no issue, and I looked forward to a quiet New Year's Eve after the long hike.
With no public transport services on New Year's Day, it paid to stay local, and the weather could not have been better. New Year's greetings abound as I rounded Loch an Eilean and Loch Gamhna before I made for the Cairngorm Club Footbridge to cross Am Beanaidh, the river originating in Gleann Eanaich. My next destination was Loch Morlich, where I made good use of the available light for photographic purposes, dallying longer than on my previous ill-fated encounter when a tumble ripped my trousers. There was no such mishap on my return to Aviemore using the Old Logging Way. Even though the light was failing, I got away without using a head torch when I got under street lights in time. There were no complaints about the day, and staying low avoided the difficulties of snowbound upland travel, though I was amazed by the amount of motor traffic.
The whole Scottish escapade brought many gifts my way, as well as a few obstacles. Rain and storm intruded, but other compensations more than made up for any wettings or travel disruption. They may even have planted other ideas in my mind for future excursions. That is often the sign of a superb getaway.
