Daylight saving

Which is easier?  To change the setting of every clock on planet earth or to change human habits?

Like most countries in Europe, Ireland observes Daylight Saving Time (DST), with the clock shifting forward one hour at the end of March and one hour backward at the end of October.  The USA has a similar scheme but uses different dates. The situation is even more confusing in Australia where only some states (the green ones in the map) adopt DST.

Living in a community we have rather more clocks than an average house: I've just adjusted 13 of our more public clocks, and one subsequently fell off its wall fixing and broke its glass - duh...

The EU proposed to abolish the time change in September 2018 following a public consultation, during which, 4.6 million European citizens called for the practice to be brought to an end, however its usage still persists.

George Hudson (who has a lot to answer for) was the first to propose modern DST in 1895 with Germany being the first to implement it on May 1, 1916, in the hopes that it would save energy during World War I. Whether it did is open to question but in any case the system has persisted since then.

If indeed it is better to have lighter winter mornings (at the expense of darker evenings) why change the clock? Whatever is wrong with an institution deciding to shift its starting and ending times by an hour to achieve the same end? 

Having just informed my Physics class that two underlying laws pervade humanity:

(1) there's no such thing as a free lunch, aka you won't get something for nothing, and

(2) cause must precede its effect (as parodied in Alice through the looking glass) aka the "arrow of time".

The latter observes that time moves only in one direction, and DST violates this principle. I wonder what would have happened if I had set a repeating alarm on my smart phone for 01:55 hours last night?  I suppose it would have rung at 01:55 and then again, two hours later, at 01:55. Which underlines the absurdity. If I had been sufficiently bothered I'd have tried it, but I preferred not to interrupt my beauty sleep. And had the switch been during daylight hours, would the sun have moved back?

DST was (and is) clearly a political agenda. No engineer, computer programmer or scientist in their right mind would propose anything so asinine or contrary to reason. We technical people get around it by adopting UTC for any serious investigation, but we cannot totally distance ourselves from DST because we have to live with the rest of humanity who appear to be more politically than technically minded. Hence my spending  half an hour or more adjusting 13 clocks and breaking one.

Having belaboured my point, I admit that there is a Biblical passage about time going backwards (and another about time standing still):

And Isaiah said, “This shall be the sign to you from the LORD, that the LORD will do the thing that he has promised: shall the shadow go forward ten steps, or go back ten steps?” And Hezekiah answered, “It is an easy thing for the shadow to lengthen ten steps. Rather let the shadow go back ten steps [or degrees KJV].” And Isaiah the prophet called to the LORD, and he brought the shadow back ten steps, by which it had gone down on the steps of Ahaz. (2Ki 20:9-11)

about which there has long been the rumour that NASA computer programmers proved that this event actually happened, now mostly debunked. I remember my father alluding to this - it was the sort of thing that would have tickled his interest. This link summarises the subject.

Chasing the sunset

The apartment my parents rented

We are enjoying a few days in Westward Ho! We chose this location because of my happy childhood memories of the place. Actually I can remember very little detail of those happy family holidays spent here, but I do at least recall walking under that strange arch - a buttress I suppose - and my mother commenting on the dank smell on entering the holiday apartment - funny the things, the very few things, that stick in one's memories as a child. And I remember that awesome view...

The view from the apartment

Then there was that evening stroll with my father along the cliffs heading west, chasing the sunset. This morning I tried to find the place but could not... maybe my memories are all mixed up with the closing scene of Oliver - a film that also made a big impression on me: my mother took me to a showing in a big cinema in Southampton where I first experienced the wonder of surround sound. I would have been about 16 at the time.

"I'm reviewing - the situation..." from Oliver

The coastal path - was this where we walked?

Wherever it was, the fact that we walked together, just us two, is strong in my memory. Perhaps because I felt like was being treated as an adult. I don't know what we talked about. Possibly we didn't talk. Talking is often superfluous, inappropriate, especially for men-folk. Why talk when you can see?

So I followed what starts off as "Kipling Tors" and has now become the way-marked coastal footpath for several miles before turning back; deep emotions throbbing inside me. How I wish I could turn the clock back. You parents out there, invest time with your kids, do unique things with them. Treat them as sentient beings. Your time with them will be so, so short, before they grow up, leave home, have their own lives to live.

Westward Ho! was of course originally named after the 1855 novel by Charles Kingsley. Only later did it rise to fame because of Kipling's associations with the place. His novel, Stalky & Co, is based on his schooldays here and Kipling Tors is where Kipling and his friends used to smoke cigars and pipes and read books together. Which makes another connection, for the Jungle Book stories also made a deep childhood impression on me. And so I am a sort of mixed-up product of all this.

During our short stay here I've enjoyed running up and down the beach and swimming several times - the weather has been remarkably warm: both air and sea temperatures at around 15'C - and the waves are so invigorating. But regardless of the time of day (I headed out at 07:00 this morning) you will meet countless dogs and their owners. Not that I mind dogs (or even their owners) but it just makes it more difficult finding somewhere discrete to change as there is in variably an owner and dog approaching from either direction.

2023 Foray No.8 - Omey Island

The raison d'etre

Following my post on Coney Island, my son-in-law asked if I knew about Omey Island, similarly accessed by a natural tidal causeway. I didn't, but not for very long - I did my research and figured the beginning of this week was good for weather and tides and so off I set.

Behold - it actually fits!

And besides, my son from across the ocean had recently sent me a new tent, a North Face Stormbreak 1 and of course it needed to be tried out. Initial assessment was positive: it packs up into a cylindrical shape that is shorter than with my existing tent and thus actually just fits inside my small backpack, and it is 0.3kg lighter. Although similar in its X-pole design it is easier to set up because the poles are erected first and the main sheet is clipped to and hangs under the arched poles. Whereas with my old tent you had to thread the poles through channels and only then erect them. The new tent has a separate fly sheet that goes over the poles, good for keeping rain out. It did rain a bit during my one night tent-over and I remained perfectly dry in my cocoon inside. I totally recommend this tent, although it could do with a couple more tent pegs.

The red rectangle on the right is home and the one on the left is Omey Island, off the Connemara coast. Starting with the Dublin Galway train service, I figured two possible routes: hike or bike. Since it might be difficult to take a bike on a bus, and since it is not nice biking in the dark (I'd have to had left home at 05:30), I opted on the former. Maybe next year I'll try the bike option when the days are longer.  

Bus 65 from home to Tallaght (Dublin), Luas tram to Heuston train station, Inter-city service to Galway town, two delightful hours by road through the Connemara National Park on bus 923 to Cleggan and, finally, Shanks's pony for the last 90 minutes to Omey where I found, as I had expected, the tide low enough to cross.  The causeway is shorter than that for Coney Island, although the island itself is larger.

My camp site

The red rectangle is the approximate site of my tent. Counter-intuitively there is a large lake in the middle of the island. I mused: if in this lake there was a smaller island, and in that island a yet smaller lake and so on ad infinitum...

About half of the island's area is fenced farmland, leaving the remaining half free for roaming. On arrival there was a notice listing all the things you are not allowed to do. Camping was one. But I had come all the way from Dublin and was hardly going to retreat that easily so I tacitly ignored the sign and no one seemed to mind. I do of course strictly obey the "leave no trace" rule of wild camping.

The island did not disappoint. There are several beaches, a hilly bit in the middle, the ruins of a church that was dug out from the sand dunes in 1981, and a notable lack of People. Oh, and rabbits galore (unlike Coney Island). What more could you ask for?

Chicken sandwich for lunch and the same for dinner, and up at 06:15 the next day for a quick breakfast of fruit cake and CDM, early in order to catch the tide, or so I thought. I packed up in the dark and set off, but when I got to the causeway, lo-and-behold the water was high and still rising - already too high to cross safely.  After consulting various web sites, and calling my wife who confirmed my reading of the tide charts, I made a water mark with some stones and turned around to circumnavigate the island once more. A bit chilly for swimming. When I got back the water had clearly receded and was still going out. So I ventured across: the maximum depth about 20cm.

The thing was, I had consulted more than one tide charts which agreed with each other in my research before the trip. Agreed with each other but apparently not with reality. 

On the date of my crossing, Tuesday 3 October, this site was claiming low tide at 07:43am, which was pretty close to my arrival. But after being confronted with reality, I eventually found the truth. But the truth upset my itinerary.

The following illustrates the problem, on Friday 6th which was a few days after my trip :

Friday 6th high tide 3.54m a 4:25am

  

Friday low tide 1.84m at 04:18am

And finally, having crossed at around 11:30, I saw a notice in the small car park that also gave the truth, pretty close to the above. Pity I didn't consult this chart on the way out!

Friday low tide 2.1m at 04:08am

The moral - don't necessarily trust the internet!

So instead of a long walk to Moyard then taking the 11:40 bus 423 to Westport train station and a tight transfer to the train departing 13:10 to Heuston arriving 16:29 then the Luas and bus 65k to the end of our road, instead I retraced my route via Galway (more frequent train service than at Westport) but missed my transfer from Luas to bus 65 at the Square so had to be rescued by my son.

My photos are here.