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| Click on this image for our track in Google Maps |
As you can see, I haven't been posting for a while, for reasons that I am planning to reveal in a subsequent post.
That is not to say that I have stopped wakling altogether, on the contrary. I am always going on hikes. But I have had to stop blogging about those, as it has been taking too much time away from other activities.
Eventually though, even if it manifests itself with months of lag, I will flesh-out the hastily jolted-down notes that I took, after each of these overnumerous hikes, and post something about them. Ergo: there.
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| And "there" it is |
In today's case, "there" bears the name of Bingrania, and happens to incarnate another pleasant hill that is part of our usual after-work rotation (right alongside next door neighbours Croaghmore and Croaghnadownies which I already blogged about).
I have been coming here for quite some time. In fact, I am coming here on such a regular basis that I no longer bother decide which of these hills I am going to climb in advance, and instead simply pick the one that I feel more in the mood for, once I arrive here.
Not so long ago for instance, I chose to head straight for Bingrania, on account that I could see it scraping the clouds in a most striking fashion, and I couldn't pass a chance to get up there and see how it felt to be engulfed in the midst of all these clouds, up close. After all, it is true that I have been known to jump in my car, on a whim, and go for a drive around Lough Salt on account that what I could see from home hinted that the place must be covered in a thick haze that spoke to my then state of mind. Yup, nothing new under the (absence of) sun here...
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| Glancing at our destination, as we start our walk |
Yet, as we start our short hike this evening, the hilltops are clear of any mist, haze or rain, though, unbeknownst to us, this is going to change exceedingly soon... It is therefore with a light-hearted foot that we set sail on the track, while also recalling how, last time we ascended Bingrania (in January or February of this year), we got caught in a massive downpour of icy sleet and snow as we stood at its stop, even though, for varied reasons, we didn't mind getting battered by the cold elements that much then. What happened after this shower abated is also another story that I am also not planning even remotely hint at any time soon either...
As it turns out, this recollection becomes even more à propos as, whereas we are quickly making our way towards the top, all the weather signs start pointing to the fact that we are going to be in for a repeat of the downpour experience... Oh well, finding a little consistency in one's life never hurts.
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| The downpour, approaching swiftly towards the summit we stand on. |
Sill, since we consider that we have paid our dues last time around, we presently consider it better to try to take shelter from the rain...
Probably a wise choice at that too, as it's quite the heavy downpour sneaking upon us from the south-east, and we will be spending quite a few long minutes, in almost zero visibility, waiting for the clouds to pass. We remain totally unfazed about this slight disagreement however, and, all the while, our spirits remain decidedly high as we tell ourselves that, with days being this long, we do have all the time in world.
Besides, as the rainclouds dissipate in a motion that is about as fast as the one they had when they zeroed in on us out of nowhere, we are treated to the cinematic spectacle of their agile motion, as they swiftly and stealthily glide over the next hill, like a most agile hurdle sprinter.
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| The rain & cloud screen, departing from the scene |
Now, in case you look more closely at the photograph above, one thing you may notice, and that I need to explain, is that the small black shape you see near the top happens to be a burnt car. It turns out that some idiots decided that a nothing could adorn a majestic hilltop better than the trashiest sign of our modern civilisation. And we don't need to get up there (though we will) to know that this is the same burnt car we saw on the western path, last time walked around these parts.
And if you want the complete picture, you should know also that this wreck comes complete with a nice invitation to "get lost", though in more colourful language than I feel comfortable using on this blog, through a message that was hastily etched on a rusty metal plate welded in lieu of the rear windshield. I guess every area must have a pack of disgruntled young wolves, who conceive the openness of the surrounding expanse as a threat to their vision of the world, which they would very much prefer to be both narrow and self-centred.
Still, if some local hooligans want to take to expressing their annoyances towards society right smack in the middle of nowhere, and as much as I loathe littering of any kind, I guess it is still the better outcome compared to their picking up on some random stranger, in the middle of a busy city street.
Yet, how anyone can ever remotely harbour any kind of latent anger, while standing in the middle of this hauntingly beautiful place, remains a complete mystery to me...
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| I mean, come on, what else could a man ever need! |
Now, as it turns out, and as we are steadily making our climb to our partially disfigured summit, the skies are clearing in stunning fashion, and Sheephaven Bay takes to revealing itself in the most astounding evening light.
Clearly, it was worth waiting for the rain to pass!
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| Where else can you see this a sky? |
And since we are standing on the top of of Croaghmore, we also get to see the sun approaching from the other side, as it throws a playful smile onto our old pal, Croaghnadownies.
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| More lush greens, in the evening sun |
Indeed, this country, and this very County, seem to have much to be offer after the rain...
But we can't just leave Bingrania at this time of year without using it as an opportunity to demonstrate something I wrote about earlier, in another entry, on how nobody who has spent an entire year onto the island of in Ireland should make the mistake of describing it as an emerald isle only.
That's because, if you look around you at this time of year, you'll find that the purple of heater is everywhere. And I do mean everywhere:
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| Trust me, the camera doesn't even remotely do justice to the actual colour |
When I told you that whole sway of hills completely turn purple, as autumn approaches. Better take this fiery purple flame in, instead of thinking that the ephemeral artificial light of a hideous burning car could ever content you!
Suggested Sound Track
Well, while I will agree that Prince was a somewhat talented musician and singer, I have never really cared that much for his music. Therefore the hyper-obvious choice of tagging you with Purple Rain is out. Besides, I'm not one for all-to-easy segues. Instead, since it does occur that I haven't published a blog entry for quite some time, I will go for one of these special tracks that I keep in the special reserve, and that I wasn't exactly planning to give away since I fear that sharing a hidden gem with an uncaring world will only tarnish its shine. But since this happens to be a special occasion...
As usual, because this is Tori, I don't have the faintest idea what half of all she's singing is alluding to. But this is absolutely fine by me, because what I do imagine is even better. Besides, if you ever read some of my other entries, you should know that I enjoy cryptic.
So, try not to read too much into it, outside of the lines about clouds descending (which is the reason I picked this song) or weathering this (which, unlike Tori, we didn't get to experience only figuratively). Instead, just enjoy this masterfully crafted ride. Oh, isn't that bridge with the phasing all shades of awesome, like purple heather on an autumn Irish hillside?
Additional Pictures
