Angel

Some while ago I posted about an XY-plotter I made. In fact it had a Z dimension in that it could lift the pen off the paper. The X direction was a platen roller. The Y direction was the pen carriage travelling along a true steel rod which I had salvaged from somewhere, about 12mm diameter, mounted over and parallel to the platen. I wanted a key-way slot milled down the length of this rod, into which the pen carriage was keyed so that by turning the rod the pen would lift.

On discussing my plan with my father he arranged a visit to an "angel" who, if my memory serves me, lived at Ovington House. I think this man ran a 5" gauge (or thereabouts) railway in his grounds and was one of my father's business clients, but I cannot find any reference to the railway in Google. In any case he, who must have been an angel, led us into his workshop where he had a milling machine. After I had explained what I wanted and why, he set the machine up and, wonder of wonders, told me to work it. Meanwhile he turned down the end of a small bolt that would follow the key-way. After profusely thanking him, he asked me to show him the plotter when I had completed it. That action I never took, and I live to regret it.

According to Google, the "angel" was Harvey Hoare of Hoare's bank. Whether so or not I remember one anecdote - my father told me the man would take micro-naps during the day, sitting in his chair, during which he would be totally non-communicando but after a few minutes would wake and be fully attentive.

The aerial view below might be Ovington House and the outbuildings arranged in a triangle strike a small chord in my memory - we had to walk outside to get to his workshop. And there are extensive grounds which could have housed a miniature railway.

Ovington House

Young Theo here wanted bits of wood which I gladly supplied. I asked him what he was making - it was, I think, "something to fire corks". I too would have loved to see his completed article working. Not because I want to see some inferior childish construction, but because I'd love to further inspire Theo's creativity. Like my grandfather once did who watched my disappointing attempts to make things and took me aside and helped me make a small wooden box that actually had at least a suggestion of precision and purpose.

The moral? Be an angel - facilitate but never discourage a creator-in-the-making.

The physiology of barefoot running

A short note for would-be Barefoot Runners and Others.

I get cracks in my feet and hands when my skin is dry. I had had an irritating but not deep crack in my right big toe for several days before my Table Mountain adventure, and because of it I toyed with whether to go or not. Hence the green/yellow insulation tape "plaster" in the photo of my feet, and that was the second application (I carry a roll with me on such jaunts). The next time I looked down at my feet the "plaster" was gone, and yet I didn't feel any discomfort, so it remained so until I got back home.  But after a cup of tea and a long shower, the irritation returned.

Similarly, sharp stones are always uncomfortable but one survives... but if I pause for a drink or a rest, when I set off again, almost however short the pause, my feet complain overly for the first few minutes, and then they largely appear to give up complaining.

It's as if the body adjusts - what used to hurt becomes just mild discomfort, by sheer necessity I suppose.

This principle should be an encouragement to would-be barefoot runners or, indeed, to anyone anticipating an activity that would seem nigh impossible.  Persevere. The human body is an amazing machine and it will do its utmost to keep you safe.  Of course there are limits, but most of us rarely meet let alone exceed those limits.

Lobawn and Table mountain

The mountain part highlighted in orange

Today's challenge was to go beyond Lobawn. The path that I transversed last time will take you from the village of Donard all the way to Lugnaquilla, the highest of the Wicklows. I didn't get that far, I turned off the beaten track at the summit of Table Mountain, thence to Three Lakes (actually there are only two), Arts Cross, a small segment of St Kevin's way and then back via the lane behind Knockalt.

Statistics: 24.2 miles, 3.7mph, elevation gain 1266m. My longest trek barefoot yet. Not that I was jogging all the time.  

The mountain part was awesome and definitely worth the toil, even if the return road work was hard going.  I took with me a small lump of cheese (Ali's idea), two eggs (Cadburys) and 600ml of water. I asked a householder for a refill on the way back and was glad that I had. It was a hot day.

If you are not too bored to check my photos (remember this is my blog and I do what I want, and I want these photos as a record and aide memoire of my ordeal) you'll see that the War Dept pillar on Lobawn is not the only one. In fact they turn up at other Wicklow summits apparently. They must have had a lot of them to get rid of after the war. And that mud (boggy peat) is hard to avoid and in any case is sort of irresistible and I reckon helps combat sunburn. Numerous dips on the descent helped to remove the evidence (in case any fellow-hiker might think I was mad - but I met not a soul on the mountains, all of them to myself). But I still needed a long shower when I got home.

Looking back to a Very Muddy Spot

Lobawn ahead

Looking back at Lobawn, another granite marker

Another granite column

Table Mountain in the distance

Yettanother granite column

Summit cairn, Table Mountain

Lugnaquilla in the distance

Our lake, from Table Mountain

Three Lakes from Table Mountain

Green goo in the "dike" from Table Mountain

More of the "dike"

The larger of the two Three Lakes

It was shallow and stony - I declined to swim

5 minute break for lunch in a sheltered spot

Art's Cross in the distance

Art O'Neill's Cross

Starting the steep descent from Art's Cross

The memorial at the base of the steep descent

Looking back at the steep descent

I took a dip in the Glenreemore book

Same

St Kevin's Way

Another dip, this time in the Kings river

Lobawn and Donard

Being, I think, up to date on jobs around the place I thought I would go walk-about, where no man has gone before. At least not this man.

Track statistics: 21.84 miles, elevation gain 1102m, barefoot of course. My average speed was a mere 4.23 mph because I was walking for about half the time. I followed my usual route to the Donard pass, thence to Lobawn, returning via the village of Donard and through Hollywood Glen.

My favourite colour

My path, with Lobawn on the horizon centre 

Summit marker: a British army war department granite pillar

How and why a war department granite pillar ended up atop Lobawn I have not yet discovered but it is a kind of friendly touch on finally arriving at the summit. I stood on it to take photos and it wobbled so I figure it can't be planted very deeply.

I can recommend the mountain part of this route - all very barefoot friendly, no long grass where lurk ticks, and glorious weather. At the summit I ate my Cadbury's caramel egg and then lay naked on the warm peat gazing upwards at a mostly blue sky. The descent was glorious too - an easy to follow path that turned into an amazing green road so was able to run most of the way down.

Lugnaquilla, the highest peak in the Wicklows, is alluringly further along this path that joins numerous peaks on the way.

From the summit: the path onwards to Lugnaquilla

From the summit: my path to and from

From the summit: our lake

Descent

The green road

Which turned into a gritty lane

And ended in Donard - I had no money...

Leaving the metropolis

Holywood Glen

May blossom, along St Kevin's way

May blossom always reminds me of my father - his birthday was in the month of May and each year we would wonder if his birthday would come before or after the first blossom. If you look carefully you'll see the iconic statue of Saint Kevin just to the right of the tree.  Click on the image to expand.

The time has come

The time has come. I was moved by the R&K's latest report regarding their son T's leukemia "And pray for 'complete and forever healing' ... It's time God!" - because there are specific times in God's purpose for us. As in But when the fullness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, To redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons... and For this is the word of promise, At this time will I come, and Sara shall have a son and of course the much quoted To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.

Reading on we have... He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil--this is God's gift to man... for all is vanity.... So I saw that there is nothing better than that a man should rejoice in his work, for that is his lot... This is a curious mix of dismal and bright but one thing is clear - we should not allow ourselves to get in the mulligrubs.

Even Shakespeare admits: There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat.

It's Tuesday morning and another day of lockdown. Another day of our own purposes thwarted. Another day to scratch around for renewed motivation. Another day to wonder how our faith in God meshes with the stark reality of the pandemic. Another day, indeed, to pray for complete and forever healing for T. And I am encouraged to not give up by those words "It's time God!" from someone who has every human reason to be despondent.

What time is it for me, for you, for T today?

Lunch on Mullaghcleevaun

Lunch was two soft-boiled (in the sun) eggs and a flask of Wicklow Well Water.

The lockdown now permits exercise up to a 5km radius which took me to the quarry at Ballyknockan, gateway to the Wicklow Mountains, where I figured I'd be off the radar. Apparently others did too. I met two hikers on Silsean, a group of four descending from Mullaghcleevaun, and a lone woman hiker at the summit. We kept our distance of course...

Such cramp - I had to rest awhile on the way back.  And aching muscles the morning after.