Tuesday - I finished my painting job and the weather was beguiling me so, in the couple of hours I had, I set off down to the far lake shore again partly because it was somewhere to go and partly because I figured this island deal wasn't quite closed.
Along the lake shore you can get within about 50 metres from this "homestead island" and from that vantage point I took the following photos.
To the right
Towards the middle
Not particularly interesting and no sign of this farm machine yet, so I moved along the shore to the left to change my viewing angle, and...
Far left of island
...and I still could not see this rusty machine. Clearly it is positioned just at that point where it is impossible to see it from this shore, doubtless to ward off would be thieves. Why does it matter anyway?
The road to the homestead
I had to retrace my steps - there was insufficient time to make it around this part of the lake - and on the way back I located the remains of the road to the homestead.
This part of the lake shore is Very Muddy. Typically you sink ankle depth but every so often I suppose there is an old stream bed and you disappear to waste depth in mud. When I say 'you' I mean 'me' of course - no-one else would be fool enough to explore these realms. Fortunately I was bare foot - it's easy to clean feet, shoes are not so easy. However my shorts did get rather muddy and I had to sluice lake water over my lower half, then entered our property at the nether end so as Not To Be Noticed and took a 'shower' in our poly-tunnel (hosepipe with spray attachment) until I figured I was clean enough to cross the threshold of home, and then a long power shower. Bliss!
OK: this famed homestead island is put to bed now. I promise not to mention the subject again.
Several years ago the level of the Blessington lake (or reservoir) was artificially made low so that work could be done on the dam. This year the lake has become quite as low as it was then but this time it was due to lack of rain.
On returning from two weeks in the UK I noticed how much lower the level had become and decided to run around the Kings River end on Saturday afternoon (a week ago) to suss it out, it being a warm and sunny day. The experience satisfied. The area where the Kings River enters is normally flooded and out of my depth but now the river channel was narrow and shallow, with large sand banks exposed. And I met some regular fishers who asked me where was my dog! I think these were the same folk that, several years back, had helped me find Meg after she had run off after some rabbit or whatever.
I figured I would repeat the exercise one morning this week. Somewhat foolishly as it was only 7 degC and, scantily clad as usual, so I got rather cold. But having got half way around I had to finish which I duly did and am here to tell the tale. No swimming though.
This Sunday afternoon the weather was clement and, having attended to two WC's in the house here that had broken (story of my life) but having nothing else pressing to do, I set out again, this time armed with a camera. The latter was because I reckoned the lake, so low, warranted Special Attention. I passed the usual fishing regulars and several others.
S'funny. My son went off fishing at much the same time as I left for my run. And these men I passed who asked after my dog: doubtless they look at me, besmirched with mud, and think 'crazy guy'. And I look at them with similar lack of comprehension. But we share the same lake amicably.
As usual you can enlarge my pictures by clicking on them.
My route around Kings River end of lake from Bing maps
To start I cross the bridge and climb over the parapet at 'A' and go around the Kings River end of the lake in an anticlockwise direction (the same course as my son and I did many years ago on mountain bike and petrol scooter, only that time the tide was in). I run where I can, but some areas are too stony and slow me down. The course would be very difficult it tackled shod.
Lots of dykes, ditches and hedges not normally visible
And a zillion new islands and penisulae
And all rather muddy
From 'B' looking back towards the bridge
The level has never become low enough to access this island near 'C'
Ancient roadways appear - this one at 'D'
This stream at 'E' is normally an inlet to the lake
Kings River at 'F'
Kings River looking towards lake - note the people!
All this area is normally flooded
Fording the river knee deep, it is usually an out of my depth swim
A week ago the river was a mere stream. And I've seen it far more bloated than in this picture. One needs to watch the weather before making assumptions about its depth and flow.
Looking up Kings River, all this is normally part of the lake
Looking back along the river né lake from 'G'
This and a piebald horse were near 'H' on all three runs
Near 'J' looking south
Near 'J'
Note the partially submerged fences
A Very Muddy Place near 'K'
Ordance Survey Ireland have an on-line map service where you can overlay a modern map (of the lake) with a historic map (dated 1888-1913, before the lake was flooded), which shows the above fence-lines. The photo above was taken from where the stream (blue) crosses the fence-line (orange).
Back to the bridge at 'L'
The closest post is dry when the lake is "normally low"
I run habitually three or four times a week and only comment here if the run is exceptionable: that usually means of significantly more than usual length. But this morning the length was moderate.
When the water level is low as it is at the moment due to the drought, the lake shore here boasts a Very Muddy Place . As intimated elsewhere I like to mess in mud and when done I bathe and wash it all off again. I then ran partly along the shore, partly by road to the Place where I can swim, the location of which must remain strictly secret otherwise it wouldn't be. And then back home.
So what's the deal? What was exceptional was that, this morning, I was able to run at top speed virtually the whole course. How so? Perhaps because I took a dip early on: nothing like a dip to kick start the body. Perhaps because it had rained lightly during the night which makes hard surfaces softer to run barefoot on, and soft sand more compacted and thus easier to run on. Perhaps just because. But for whatever reason it was wonderful, so much so that I had to pinch myself to prove that I wasn't dreaming.
Today I ran around the (Kings River end of the) lake. I used to do this quite often several years back, but last year only once and this year only once so far. The lake has to be fairly low, and it needs a couple of hours of spare time. Implied is the swim across where the river enters the lake and, for me, this takes a bit of psyching myself up. But I managed it - I did not panic and I did not drown. The weather was interesting - there was rain about and several times it came down quite hard for 10 minutes or so. Which added interest, along with the mud and stones.
Back to a hot shower and cup of tea, and then Ali and I cooked fish and chips with supposedly petit pois (according to the packet) but they were quite hard work and certainly were not petit. For afters Ali had made me Blackcurrant Pie With Ice Cream and it was most excellent. Some folk here do not like blackcurrants, a position I find hard to credit as they are my favourite. But then the same people don't like gooseberries so I suppose there must be something wrong with them.
Today was Saturday. Yesterday I noticed that the grease trap outside the kitchen was overflowing so, the first thing this morning was to dig a grave. At 0900 I joined the outside crew picking up leaves and then moving laurel branches that J had been chain sawing. After drinks at 1030 I lifted the three manhole covers comprising the grease trap and removed four wheelbarrow fulls of yuk to my grave, then cleared up and was a bit late for lunch. Which meant I skipped dishes. It was a beautifully still, crisp and sunny day with not a cloud in the sky (despite the weather forecast that informed me it was cloudy) so, this afternoon, I did a medium serious run, along "goat man's lane" to the bridge over Kings river and back along the river-side and lake. In places where the sun had not reached the ground was still frosty which was a tad cold and crispy on the feet, but I manfully survived.
After a hot bath, Ali and I enjoyed dinner together until I was informed that the dreaded amber light was 'on' - this means that our septic tank pump has gone wrong and this basically means that all bodily functions will have to stop within a matter of a few hours. Hard to do anything in the dark so it will have to wait till tomorrow morning which, fortunately, is not the Sabbath. Did it have to go belly up just after getting cleaned up from doing the grease trap?
Where the Liffey joins the lake - the water is very low
Flotsam
See the boat?
Nice squelchy mud!
The boat stopped at this island - what is the man doing?
His boat at the other end of the island
This island, by the way, only appears when the lake is very low as it is at the moment. Moreover this boat, recognisable because, as the man sits at the back to operate the outboard, its bow is always high, is often seen on the lake.
The surface (moss?) in the foreground was bright orange
Two things from a web site entitled "10 Things That The People Who Love Their Lives Are Doing Differently":
- They do things because they want to do them, not because they believe they have to do them. - They don’t bother changing others, but instead learn how to deal with them appropriately.
Differently? For me I think not, and neither were any of the other eight any surprise. And yet I still find myself often dancing to another tune. But who is the piper?
Is it when I don my Christian hat? Not that I ever take it off - I just think about taking it off. A bit like Kipling's Muslim Mahbub Ali'So says my Law--or I think it does'. I wonder what God wants of me and to what extent I should "be faithful" to those I fellowship with. Hmm. Like what would Jesus do? Not that I would ever wear one of those bracelets. I abhor anything unnecessary being attached to my body. And, no, I do not have a wedding ring - I don't even wear a watch unless it is the GPS variety and then only for a short period. So does that make me a hedonist? Or an ascetic?
Christians are often accused of thinking it is somehow wrong to enjoy oneself. Something to feel guilty about. This quote from Chelsea Handler, who doesn't come across as a God seeker herself, sums up the absurdity nicely: "I think only hedonists believe in God, in the same way that I think only hedonists have babies."
Then there is the Buddhist's "middle way" a path of moderation, between the extremes of sensual indulgence and self-mortification which sounds to me a bit like a cop out.
My drainage canal on the lake shore
Joining the ponds to the lake proper
So is it wrong to make canals in the sand at my age? Or to run barefoot imagining I am a locomotive following a well graded permanent way along the lake shore, carefully choosing places to cross gorges and chasms hundreds of millimetres deep carved out over the eons by surface run-off. Or messing in mud. Or taking random photos of cows whilst I am on a run. Or posing for ridiculous shadow selfies. All on my own. Or, on a slightly more serious note, randomly improvising on the piano, or humming a favourite tune in parts. Combining colour filters in a search for the ultimate hue. Maintaining a blog that few read. Or, as the song goes, climbing mountains or jumping in a lake. Enjoying a Cherry Bakewell. Is it not possible to praise my Maker in such things? Rather than being restricted by accepted evangelical/charismatic liturgy and the paraphernalia that goes with it?
A random stock photo - not me, but it might have been
Looks like it runs in the family...
And this is me - yet again!
We non-conformists watch Catholic or high-church antics with mingled horror and disbelief, and yet how much of what we do is likewise mumbo-jumbo to the average agnostic? Lord save me from doing things just because some implied rule book tells me I should. But on the other hand Lord save me from only ever doing things just because I want to. There has to be a better reason, like "hath God said?". But I wonder just how much He does say and then, in the absence of such direction or other constraints like "love thy neighbour as thyself", why not enjoy life: abounding as well as sometimes being abased?
Here's another thing. I'm not good with words. Hence this blog as being just possibly a better way for me to communicate. Typically I will re-read and make changes to a longer post like this one many time and over many days, a degree of freedom one does no have with speech. And besides, when speaking, especially in public, I often fail to get across the very point I set out to make. In an argument the other person can easily walk all over me. When I was very young I was given speech therapy and they said I was lazy. With worship songs that we sing, I know the music but often cannot recall the exact words. I do not believe I have ever written poetry and am probably incapable of it. It is not that words have no meaning for me - I marvel when I read a book that is (IMHO) well written and I have even been known (though rarely) to appreciate poetry. I am a slower than average reader and am intimidated by small print or excess or flowery description. What interests me in a book or a film is believable fantasy, portrayal of character, the set, and music - more than plot - and if I identify then I long to know what happens to the protagonist (or the actor) afterwards.
I prefer emails to telephone calls. I will do almost anything to avoid the latter. With an email there is at least the chance to make changes before pressing the button. But I know folk who are quite the reverse and sometimes we don't meet.
Why am I saying this? Because the liturgy and paraphernalia I mentioned above is so bound up in words and, where does that leave those of us who struggle with speaking? - I have noticed how such people easily get side-lined. Because so much value is placed on words.
My work involves programming. Writing assembler for a RISC processor is great - there are only about 50 instructions to remember: I can memorise that many and then I am in total control. Assembler is simple and deterministic. An op-code such as "incf 23" increments the value in memory address 23 and takes exactly one machine cycle to execute. At the other end of the extreme a language like C# is very verbose and maybe few programmers know all the vocabulary it offers. C# is very clever and, given such knowledge, enables you to do very smart things with just a few lines of code, but don't expect a known result in a known amount of time! I am not comfortable with programming in C# because I can't remember all those words and thus feel out of control.
Granted that the Gospels are more about Jesus but you'd think they or maybe Paul's epistles would mention his disciples - but for most of them there is little or no record of what they said or did. Simon Peter is of course the exception. And yet I suppose the rest of them were chosen for a reason. Take Matthew - we suppose he wrote the gospel bearing his name and yet there is no record of what he did or said in the whole of the NT apart from the fact that he was a tax collector and followed Jesus immediately when called.
One other disciple in particular comes to mind. Dear Thomas, pragmatist to the end. I say "dear", of course, because I identify with him.
In the four very obviously ordered lists of apostles (Matthew, Mark, Luke and Acts) he comes half way - neither most nor least noteable. His three other mentions are all in the gospel of John.
Dean Jones in John on Patmos
In chapter 11 he makes a possibly snide remark which Adam Clarke comments well on. In chapter 14, whilst Jesus is explaining spiritual truths in somewhat mysterious language, he interjects "we haven't a clue what you're talking about so how can be possibly know the way?" And finally, post resurrection, we have Jesus appearing to and showing his hands and side to the disciples, but Thomas happens not to be there. On catching up afterwards he remarks indignantly "Unless I see in his hands the marks of the nails and place my fingers into his side, I will never believe" which Dean Jones impersonates rather well in his John on Patmos. Dear Thomas. I hope I would have done the same, for I'd certainly have thought it. Maybe the more "spiritual" among us might despise him (and me) for lack of faith - such folk might consider themselves spiritual but I think they do not understand the word.
Eight days later, Jesus (though the doors were locked) enters and announces himself with "Peace be with you" and in the very next breath, wonder of wonders and never mind the other disciples there, he says to Thomas "Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side." No ticking off, no putting down, he meets Thomas just where he is and supplies just what he needs to evoke his response "My Lord and my God!"
Martyrdom of St. Thomas, by Peter Paul Rubens
Wanting, as always, to know what happened to the protagonist, I did a bit of research and found that there is good reason to believe that Thomas later traveled to India where he preached the gospel and was martyred. Less certain is the tradition that he was killed by a sword being thrust into his side.
In this short life that we live there is a whole lot more than talking.
The good Lord would not have given us bare feet if we were meant to wear shoes all the time. Now there is an internet presence for bare feet running it is no surprise to find the opposite viewpoint expressed, see http://www.runningbarefootisbad.com/ but their counter arguments do not convince me.
You can check out all the sites that advocate bare foot running. I did this when I was first considering it but now the only thing that matters to me is that I like to doing it. Here are some of my reasons:
1. Above all, it feels good. Once one's feet have hardened a bit. Your body will interact with the surface you are running on; your eye will seek out a path that avoids obstacles. Running on smooth grass is the best, but sand or mud is also pleasurable. It is good to be that bit closer to nature. Indeed I would choose to run entirely naked for the same reason if it were not social unacceptable.
2. Clearly it is not true that it is positively bad for you - there are many peoples in the world who go bare foot either out of necessity or choice;
3. Most people (and my intuition too) say that it is better for you. There are some good testimonials in http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-240-319--6728-0,00.html. My own experience confirms that I land on the heel when in shoes, whilst I tend to use the ball of the foot when bare foot which softens the blow which must be better on the knees;
4. My biggest expense in running is for shoes and socks. I gave up socks a long time ago, and now I use shoes much less I must be saving myself some money.
5. One of my courses involves swimming across a river. It is a good deal easier swimming without shoes on!
I have a couple of courses from my home that I can now manage without shoes at all - both are about 5 miles in length. In each case I have to tread slowly and carefully for short distances over the worse parts.
Do not expect to run a whole course bare foot from day one (unless you are blessed with golf links nearby) - it takes time for your soles to harden and time to adapt to the implied different gait. You will get the occasional cut or thorn, but you will not get blisters. At first you might stub your toe a few times. I have been running bare foot for at least 6 months now and my feet are only starting to adapt. There is no shame in carrying your shoes with you if you are in any doubt about the terrain and you certainly should to start with.
I personally think it is worth it. The shoe manufacturers have sold us a lie in making us believe that you need "good" running shoes!
