Summer Round Up 24
I haven’t done a monthly round up in a while, so I thought why not compile them into a summer special. So here we are now.
Summer
I use the word ‘summer’ in the seasonal sense, and not so much related to the weather. I don’t think we’ve actually had any summer weather here in Ireland - I seem to remember two sunny days in a row at the start of July, but I can’t be definite about that. I’ve spoken to a few people this week who are holding out hope we'll have a good spell during September, but there’s no evidence that will happen. It’s the hope that kills ya.
Regardless, it is a season when we take time off work and I’ve just returned from a wee break down the country. I couldn’t be bothered with airports, busy cities or sticky resorts, so opted to stay closer to home.
Glendalough
I’ve been to Glendalough a couple of times over the years, but only for a few hours. This time, I wanted a bit of solitude and to be amongst nature and it offered both. A four hour jaunt down the country and I was there.
As well as the location, the accommodation appealed to me - a hermitage, set in the grounds of a church. Without broadband or a tv, and quite spartan, it suited my needs. As well as walking, I wanted to be able to sit in silence without distractions.
It’s run by the Sisters of Mercy (sadly not the 80’s English rock band, but the other original sisters) and close to a coach house which has a prayer room and a well stocked library. One evening I wanted to read a few pages of ‘Anam Cara’ by John O’Donoghue and of course it was there - Glendalough is at the heart of Celtic spirituality.
My only visitor was a young Sika stag deer. There’s lots of wild deer in the Wicklow mountains, and this fella would come for a bit of a graze in the evenings. I’d be sitting on the bench outside the hermitage, he’d look at me, I’d look at him. Not a bother. Perhaps he sensed I was vegan and knew I posed no danger.
St Kevin / Naomh Caoimhín
Image of Naomh Caoimhín
The monastic city at Glendalough is based around its first abbot, St Kevin/Naomh Caoimhín, a sixth century saint. He’s said to have been a hermit who chose Glendalough because it was perfect for a secluded retreat, and spent six years there. Very much a man after my own heart.
You can still see the cave where he spent his time - a small slot in the rock where there’s only enough room to lie down. It’s not possible to get a look inside, but I reckon if it was in Dublin City you could probably still rent it out for €1000 a month as a cosy self contained space with great views of the lough.
A rare photo of myself at Glendalough
When I visited I wondered what he would make of the huge amount of tourists with their selfie sticks idling around the graveyard and church and visiting the round tower (of which I was one). I don’t blame people, as it’s a beautiful and historic place to visit, but it’s certainly hard to imagine it as a place of refuge.
However, once I took myself off on some of the trails, I found the peace and quiet I was after. Walking the Derrybawn trail along with a bit of the Wicklow Way took me back to my hermitage. I did return at 8am a day later and had another look around (much quieter) and completed a few more of the trails. I’ll be back to do the spinc as well.
Brockagh Mountain
As the Hermitage was at the foot of Brockagh Mountain, I naturally spent most of my time on the trails there. Being in nature allows me to feel present.
After five days of self imposed silence, with no stimulation from TV, internet, or people, (I’d brought a couple of books on spiriutality/meditation/non duality and one work of fiction but rarely lifted them) I was ready to take part again.
Conversing, generating thoughts, being around people - it always takes me a wee while to ease into the stream, but it’s important to get out there again. Stops you from going a bit odd but you have to go slow, or I do anyway.
Even though I’d walked around trails at the foot of the mountain, I hadn’t attempted to scale it. I kept seeing a sign, but was unsure whether I could manage it. It was only a few months ago, after I’d injured the ligaments in my knee last year, that I’d stopped limping. But I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, or at least attempt it.
As I came around the corner where the above sign is found, I fell in with a couple of hikers. Mike and Lubo (? think that was the ladies name) were out for the day, and had already scaled a couple of the surrounding mountains, including Scarr.
Mike asked if I'd been robbed of my hiking gear - all I had a pair of boots and a bottle of water, and didn’t even have a jacket. I explained that I’d only notions of scaling the mountain, but they told me they were heading that way and I was welcome to travel as far as I thought I was able.
They were the perfect people to meet - I explained that I’d just come off retreat, and they were the first folks I’d spoken to. I had a lovely conversation with them both, and we just keep walking, until we’d reached the peak. I thanked them for their company, we parted ways, and I enjoyed the views before descending to Laragh and a well earned pint. It felt like a natural end to my trip.
Books
Struggling a bit with reading at the moment. As mentioned above, I didn’t feel like opening a book on my trip. But some recent standouts have been Amor Towles ‘Table for Two’, ‘God of the Woods’ by Liz Moore (proper summer thriller) and ‘Long Island’ by Colm Toibin a classy follow up to Brooklyn and the door is open for a final instalment. The flowing, crackling prose of ‘The Heart of Winter’ by Kevin Barry had me engrossed.
Screen
Can someone suggest me something to watch? Seriously can’t find anything to engage me. I’d say its more to do with me than the quality of what’s on offer but nothing is grabbing my attention. I’m giving ‘Slow horses’ a go because there’s a fair bit of talk about it and I like Gary Oldman. So far, so good, entertaining yarn of a first series with plenty of dark humour and a murky world of espionage to enjoy. Good to hear ‘Smiley’ getting a mention as he kept popping into my mind.
Sport
Regular subscribers (amazingly there are a couple) will know I have a fondness for following my beloved Ard Mhacha. When they won it first in 2002 I was there, but living in Dublin. This time I’m living in the heart of it’s bosom, next to the ashes of Brian Boru, so to be caught up in the madness of the build up, the fervour of it, was very special. To get a ticket at the last minute, after two weeks of mind melting agony, is hard to put into words. To go and watch them win it was one of the greatest joys in my life. Literally the best day ever. Honestly, Sport. The scenes after were something that I’ll never forget, especially the homecoming on the Monday.
I think it’s easy to become jaded in todays world, and god knows life is f*cking tough for people at the minute. The world is an endlessly burning wheelie bin.
The celebration, the coming together of the people here, was something else. We live in such a fragmented world, and sport can unite folk like nothing else. Sheer joy for young and old, days we’ll never forget here.
Music
Enjoyed the Blues festival in Armagh well enough, the little I did see of it. Due to technical difficulties with my ears, I’m limited in what I can see/hear, but caught a couple of decent acts. I would say that blues is such a broad term that you can thrown a lot of acts in there.
Old blues is more my thing. I’d actually heard mention of this next act a couple of times, without managing to hear her. It was when my mum mentioned her that I thought I really must pay some attention.
When I finally caught up her, which was a couple of months ago, I don’t mind admitting, I cried. I just had that beautiful, visceral emotional reaction to music that I haven’t had in a long time. It’s so incredibly rare, but when you hear authenticity, that purity, there’s such a connection there. I think she must be using some sort of time machine, because she's went back to 1920’s/30’s Chicago and just is inside this music.
Anyway, Muireann Bradley. 17 years old when she made this. (Smug alert - I also managed to get this on vinyl, which I was well pleased with).
Until next time, may you be happy, may you be well, may you be free from suffering.