Posts Tagged With: photography

Connemara. Beautiful.

Posted on February 28, 2019 by singersong

I visited Connemara at the beginning of February 2019 after an extensive snowall and having mentioned this to a friend, and how beautiful it was, I was surprised at her response. “What did I mean by beautiful? Was it just the snow?”

I hadn’t really thought about it; it just was. I could have just quoted the Oxford definition – ‘pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically’ but that would have been too glib. For millenia philosophers and poets have struggled with the notion of beauty so who am I to think I can explain it, but I felt obliged to respond and to try to put my thoughts into words.

So what did I mean by beautiful?

I just love snow so of course that was part of it but it was a lot, lot more. I’ve been to Connemara many times and each time it has presented a different face. And each time I have loved it, but it is notorious for its bleak, drab weather; rain and fog has been the norm in my experience. Never, for me, have the Gods conspired to produce such sheer perfection as this paraticular weekend. A world that defies description and conditions attuned to capture every nuance of the landscape. The mountains of Connemara, the Twelve Bens, have a sublime beauty at any time, but when covered in snow they are dizzyingly so. And this was no ordinary snow. Locals I talked to said it’s like this perhaps every ten years. The purest white. But what was so special was that the weather, the light and the landscape were in perfect harmony. That’s what I mean by beautiful.

Let me explain a bit more.

On the Friday I travelled from Oughterard through Maam Cross to Letterfrack. Taking in Lough Inagh and Kylemore Abbey. A continually moving image of the bluest of lakes, snow-covered rocky mountains, treeless bogs with tussocky grass, or rubble-strewn fields of boulder granite and cascading streams. All illuminated by the low winter sun, with not a trace of haze, giving an extraordinary light, and enabling capture in my photos of every detail against an endless, azure, cloudless sky. It was cold; the temperature hardly getting above 0°C, but around every corner I had to stop the car, rug up and get just a bit closer.

Levallinee, Connemara, Co Galway.

Lough Inagh, Connemara

A morning stroll

Lough Inagh

Monarch of the Glen

Happy sheep

May the road rise to meet you.

Is this really Ireland?

The bridge between ice and water.

Sometimes the view is better when you turn around.

A Connemara winterscape.

And then there was the beautiful Lough Kylemore and Kylemore Abbey.

Later that day I headed back east on a little travelled road that takes you across the middle of Connemara from Garroman to Inver. The locals call it ‘The Bog Road’. A tundra-like land of grassy plains, granite tors, lakes and bulrushes, turf cutting and the mighty Twelve Bens Range ever-present to the north. A different beautiful.

Lough Avally iced over. A reflective scene

Lough Nacoogarrow near Garroman

The legacy of the turf cutter

Cottage on the Owengowla River.

Lougharnillam and the Owengowla River

One Twelfth of the Bens

Bog, lake, river and mountain. One of the prettiest views in Ireland?

Another view of Lougharnillam and the Twelve Bens

Lough Avally near Derryrush. Walking on thin ice.

Winter colour.

Where the plain meets the mountain

As the end of this extraordinary day approached and I took a little time to reflect at Inver on the southern shore of Connemara and watch the sun light up the clouds and the sea. Beautiful.

Never far from the music I stayed with some friends at nearby Camus. There is nothing on this planet sweeter than the sound of two fiddles. More beautiful. Thanks Bridge.

That should have been enough but I was ready for another course of Connemara’s extraordinary visual degustation. Predicted showers saw me resist a return visit to the mountains and, following Bridge’s advice, I headed to the coast for a taste of what she calls the ‘real’ Connemara. With unfamiliar names like Annaghvaan, Lettermore, Gorumna, Lettermullen, Furnace and Crappagh I travelled this string of rugged, unforgiving rocky islands, linked by causeways; so wild it was left out of the Wild Atlantic Way. I just loved it. Met Éireann was spot on though. Storms rolled in from the north bringing snow, sleet and hail and then just as quickly disappeared over Galway Bay. The stunning landscape with its sculpted coastline and quiet inlets, ice covered mirror-blue loughs, stone walls, thick bogs, neat cottages and rocky fields creates a frowzled, disorderly wildness. Framed always by the serenity of the snowy mountains to the north. The interplay of black clouds, dappled sunshine and an extraordinary pallete of rich colours made for vistas that would have defied the painter. Truly beautiful.

The Ring near Camus

View north from Camus Hill. Storm rollin in

View north from Camus Hill. A storm rolling in

A Connemara scene. The Twelve Bens completely shrouded in black cloud.

One minute before the snow and rain hit.. South of Camus

A Connemara cottage under a light dusting of snow

Swans fishing through the ice. Carrowmore West

The storm has passed.

Snow settles on the ice over this lake at Carrowroe West.

Home sweet home. Near Carrowmore West.

Looking across the estuary from Lettermore to Annaghvaan

The estuary at Lettermore

A cottage near The Hooker Bar on Annaghvaan Island

Cottage, walls and a boreen on the island of Furnace.

A small iced lake at Derrynea, near Carraroe. Completely frozen over at 3:30 pm still.

Lough Awilla on the island of Gorumna. [sounds like a kingdom in Game of Thrones] The ice is thawing. Twelve Bens in the distance.

Lough Awalia, Gorumna Island. Bulrushes in ice,.

Lough Awalia, Gorumna Island. Bulrushes poke throught the ice.

Reflections on the ice. Loch Awalia,. Handful of stones.

Reflections on the ice. Loch Awalia,. The handful of stones I threw rest on top of the ice.

Breaking the ice.

A Connemara granite wall incorporates existing granite boulders.

The island of Lettermullen. Glowing in the afternoon sun

Lettermullen from Crappagh as the rain sweeps by

White cottages occupy the hills between the bogs. Lettermullen.

A study in dark and light. Lettermullen.

Connemara walls take everything in their stride.

A thundercloud develops over the hills of Connemara

…..and letterboxes.

The prettiest golf course in Ireland? Connemara Isles Golf Club on Annaghvaan Island.

The view from the Third Tee at Connemara Isles Golf Club

As I sorted through my images from those two days, I felt so grateful that I was able to be there, and to experience this release from the endless drabness of the Irish winter. I got more images in those two days than a photographer should reasonably expect in a year.

That’s what I meant by beautiful.

Categories: My Journey, Wild Ireland | Tags: bog, Connemara, Galway, Ireland, lakes, landscape, loughs, mountains, photography, rivers, scenic, snow, sunset, views, vista | Leave a comment

The Colorado Rockies 7. America’s Mountain. Pike’s Peak.

Posted on December 31, 2018 by singersong

There are 54 peaks in the Colorado Rockies that are over 14,000 ft (4,267m). Keep in mind that the highest mountain in Australia is 7,228 ft!) There are however only two that you can drive up. Pikes Peak is one of these. At 14,115 ft it is still only the 53rd highest mountain in North America. Nevertheless it dominates the landscape of this part of the Front Range. If you have read my last post on the Garden of the Gods you would have seen it in the distance in many of the photos.

It is also known somewhat cheesily as ‘America’s Mountain’, In 1893, Katherine Lee Bates wrote the song “America the Beautiful” after having admired the view from the top of Pikes Peak.

The snow dusted Pikes Peak towering over the forest on the climb up the mountain

A 19 mile long toll road takes you off the US24 allowing you to drive to the top. Well not quite to the top this time. They were doing extensive rebuilding of the facilities so the last three miles were in a shuttle bus. I loved the way you were given the choice to join the bus earlier if you were uncomfortable with the drive. And if you are not used to mountain roads, well it is scary. You shouldn’t underestimate the drive. It requires a lot of concentration. It is two lane but there are a lot of switchbacks, steep grades and with no barriers preventing drops of thousands of feet to the valley floor. And for some reason they seem to drive on the wrong side of the road.

Hairpin bends on the way up the mountain.

The driver of your shuttle will probably point out the spot at Devil’s Playground, where Jeremy Foley went over the edge during the 2012 Pikes Peak Hill Climb (incredibly he and his navigator survived).

The Devil’s Playground. Near the top of the mountain. The bollards are where rally driver Jeremy Foley left the road in 2012. He survived unharmed.

The $15 toll will take you on an awesomely beautiful journey through different worlds with ever-changing landscapes. Firstly pine and fir forests and the calm waters of the fishing paradise, Crystal Lake.

A view of the Peak through the forest

Crystal Lake. A reservoir for Colorado Springs.

An idyllic fishing spot

Then through aspen groves just starting to turn and spruce forests and over the tree line to the wildness of the alpine zone and tundra with piles of bare burnt red-brown granite boulders.

Leaving the Bus Station in the Shuttle near the 16 Mile point

Above the tree line. Alpine tundra and granite

Granite tors covered with the previous night’s snowfall

And the photo gods were hard at work as we had a snowfall the night before and plenty of blue sky and as we climbed the mountain some low cloud to add texture and interest to the images. I was in heaven.

It was a tad cold at the top and I have to say not being used to altitude sickness, I felt all the classic symptoms, fatigue, breathlessness and headache. (same symptoms as after an all night trad session! just kidding). None of this detracted from the thrill of being at the top of the world. At least this little part of it.

The Summit

The view from the Summit

That malady disappeared pretty quickly once the oxygen levels returned to normal on the descent. And anyway there were enough distractions as the descent gives another perspective as you slowly edge down the mountain in first or second gear. In the distance was the Cripple Creek and Victor mines one of the largest gold mines in America.

A view to the south towards the Cripple Creek and Victor Gold Mines

Cripple Creek Mine

I was relieved and very satisfied to reach the bottom after a remarkable drive. Well worth the $15 toll. America the Beautiful.

Categories: America, My Journey | Tags: 14000 feet, 14er, alpine, America the Beautiful, America's Mountain, Colorado, Colorado Rockies, Cripple Creek, granite, mountains, photography, Pike's Peak, Rockies, Rocky Mountains, snow, switch backs, toll road, travel, Victor Mine, wilderness | Leave a comment

The stunning beauty of Harry Clarke’s windows. St Barrahane’s, Castletownshend, Cork.

Posted on December 24, 2018 by singersong

Eight kilometers from Skibbereen in West Cork is the village of Castletownshend, the historic seat of the Townshend family. St Barrahane’s Church, built in 1827, sits on a hill above the village. It is accessed by 52 steps. One for each Sunday of the year. It is an elegant building with many original interesting architectural features and some fine detailing, both internal and external, including timber paneling and an organ gallery.

St Barrahane’s Church

The last 13 of the 52 steps to the church

Simple and elegant interior

The organ gallery

Of greatest interest though to visitors is the addition in the early 20th century of six magnificent stained glass windows.

Three of these are by Harry Clarke, a book illustrator and Ireland’s most famous stained glass artist, who died in 1931, and three are by Powells of London. It is not hard to pick those by Clarke. They are characterised by beautiful, finely crafted, elongate figures and his use of deep rich colours. the wall to the right of the altar has three windows with the Clarke window, on the right, being quite distinct and obvious.

The Harry Clarke window is on the right.

The Louis and Martin window by Harry Clarke

This window depicts French Saints Louis (who was Louis IX, King of Spain) and Martin and was commissioned in memory of a Colonel Coghill in 1921. A window of two lights, the first light depicting St. Louis who was an ancestor of the Colonel. The figures above his head represent the poor who he often fed at his table. The first of the tracery lights depicts a ship in which King Louis sailed to the east to fight the infidels. The second and third tracery lights depict two angels who offer protection to both saints. The fourth tracery light shows St. Martin’s flaming sword, denoting his patronage of soldiers, The second light depicts the meeting between Saint Martin of Tours, dressed as a soldier’s garb, and a beggar who asks him for clothing. Again the imagery is imaginative, stunningly crafted and in glorious deep colours.

Detail of St Louis

The largest window, known as the The Nativity window, was commissioned in 1917 in memory of the Somerville family. This window has three lights, with separate depictions of the shepherds paying homage to the Christ child, the holy family and the magi but with linking elements such as Mary’s dress and the crib that create a unified picture. They are exquisitely decorated in shades of blue, pink, green, red, purple, magenta and gold. The tracery lights depicts three saints, Brigid, Fachtna and Barrahan in gorgeous detail.

The Nativity window

Detail of the Nativity window

The three Saints in the Nativity window

When you look at these windows from outside the church, you can have no expectation of how stunning the images are when back lit.

The Nativity window from the outside

If you a visiting West Cork you really must take a peek. Or look for Clarke windows in Dublin and many other locations in Ireland and England.

He completed over 130 windows. You can find where they are here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Clarke

Categories: My Journey, Real Ireland | Tags: architecture, art, Castletownshend, Church, Cork, Harry Clarke, history, Ireland, Nativity, photography, Skibbereen, St Barrahane, stained glass, travel, window | Leave a comment

The Colorado Rockies 5. Fossils at Florissant, a Petrified Forest and the Singer family.

Posted on November 7, 2018 by singersong

Take Highway 24 west from Colorado Springs. You pass the majestic Pikes Peak (look out for an upcoming blog on this) on your left and after about 50 km you’ll see a turn off to the Florissant Fossil Beds. That sounded interesting so I took it of course. I soon discovered that this place of which I knew nothing (though I should have) is legendary in the annals of American geology and palaeontology.

Within its shales and mudstones is an extraordinarily abundant assemblage of mainly insects and plants dating to the Eocene Period (34 million years old). A combination of unique circumstances has led to a level of preservation normally unheard of for insect and plant fossils.

It’s worth briefly explaining. A lake environment surrounded by redwood forest is determined as the depositional environment here. A nearby volcano generated volcanic ash which interacted with tiny creatures known as diatoms living in the lake. This caused regular diatom blooms as well as insect and plant die-offs. Dying diatoms would fall to the bottom of the lake and preserve with unrivaled detail the fossils in the finely layered mud and ash. But that’s not all. The volcano also contributed to the formation of some of the finest petrified stumps you will ever see. I’ll come back to that.

You can’t see the fossil beds. They are off limits but there is an excellent display in the museum on site. Invertebrates dominate with over 1,500 species of spiders and insects alone having been identified. Not possible to photograph them properly in their glass cases, so here are a few images from the published scientific record to give you some idea of the quality and depth of the material.

Persephone Butterfly

What most people go to Florissant for though is the petrified forest and this you can see. I’ve always been fascinated by petrified wood. I had a specimen as a young child and I used to count the rings and look under the lens at the cell structure preserved in stone and I would marvel. Who knows it may have been responsible for firing an interest that saw me spend a lifetime in geology.

A large petrified stump near the entrance to the park

The Big Stump.230 feet tall 750 yrs old when covered by volcanic mud

The famous ‘Big Stump’

The celebrated Trio of redwood stumps

The petrified trees here are among the largest surviving in the world. They have been identified as similar to modern sequoias. They were killed by a giant lahar (volcanic mud flow) from that volcano we were talking about earlier, flowing through the forest and cutting off the oxygen to the roots. Circulating water containing a lot of silica then percolated through, replacing the organic material in a process known as permineralisation. The trees were as tall as 60 metres and up to 700 years old when they died.

But I always look for the story behind the story. There is quite a saga here with the discovery, development and preservation of this national treasure; not least because it was owned by an entrepreneurial family, the Singers. I felt personally obliged to investigate this connection further.

But let’s start a little before this, back in the mid 1870s. Charlotte Hill and husband Adam, acquired and built a homestead near Florissant in 1874 under the Homestead Act. This remarkable woman discovered the fossil beds and collected hundreds of specimens which she brought to the attention of the scientific community. Included in her collection were dozens of previously unrecognised species. Most famous is the spectacular Persephone Butterfly (illustrated above). This led to scientific expeditions but also alerted the world and brought tourists and collectors. Charlotte facilitated this as a guide and joined the many who became collectors and traders in fossils. The Florissant beds were heavily exploited during this time and immense damage done. Thousands of specimens were lost. There was even an attempt to saw up the Big Stump and transport it west; you can still see evidence of this today.

Saw blades lodged in the “Big Stump’. An attempt to slice up the tree for specimens.

Then came the railway and thousands of tourists and the pressure only grew. OK now back to the Singers. Hill sold her land and homestead and it was eventually bought by the Singer family who set up a tourist attraction around the ‘Big Stump’ Another adjacent landowner opened a second Forest Park with the main attraction being a trio of stumps. They became bitter rivals.

As early as 1915 it had been proposed as a National Park. Some of the owners supported this but the Government was not keen After many false starts, it took 50 years and some torrid court battles for this to become a reality with Singers and the other landowners eventually selling to the Government in the 1960s and the park opening in 1969.

I visited a log cabin nearby. This was the original homestead built by Charlotte and Adam Hill in 1874 and which became the family home of my namesakes, the Singers in the 1920s. A comfortable cottage giving us a revealing insight into homestead life in the mid west. The walls are lined with layers of newspaper and wallpaper covering many decades. Near the roof line you can see exactly how thick this layering became. Outside the elegant cabin has v-joints and caulking to keep out the icy winds. A central stove heats the whole house. There is a small kitchen and living areas downstairs and a large bedroom and more sleeping accommodation within the roof upstairs.

It felt just a little bit weird walking through this house that may have been lived in by distant relatives.

The homestead is part of the Fossil Park and well preserved and can be visited if someone happens to be around to unlock it for you.

The homestead built by Charlotte Hill and later the Singer family home.

Inside the Hill homestead

Roof shingles on the Charlotte Hill homestead

V-notch jointing on the Hill log cabin

Square-notch jointing on a later extension.

The geologist in me wanted to see the fossils in situ but of course that was impossible; but seeing those massive petrified trunks was remarkable enough and the Colorado Rockies delivered yet another amazing experience.

And finding another group of Singers with links into the geological world! Now I wonder if any of them played the fiddle .

Categories: America, My Journey | Tags: Big Stump, Charlotte, Colorado, Florissant, Fossil Beds, fossils, Hill, insect, invertebrates, lof cabin, National Park, Petrified Forest, petrified wood, photograph, photography, Rockies, Rocky Mountains, Singer | 1 Comment

Of Magic Mushrooms and Ancient Ireland

Posted on October 31, 2018 by singersong

There are a number of major ancient Royal Sites in Ireland but the four important ones were the seats of the four provinces. These are Cashel for Munster, Navan Fort for Ulster, Dun Ailinne for Leinster and in Co Roscommon, Rathcroghan for Connaught. . There was also Tara with its special status as the seat of the High King. There is evidence of activity at these sites from deep in the Stone Age, through the Bronze Age to the height of power in the Iron Age and into Medieval Christian times.

I visited Rathcroghan recently. Before the coming of Christianity this was the religious, ceremonial and political heart of the Kingdom of Connaught. There is a wealth of archaeology scattered over 6 square kilometres with 240 sites recorded of which 60 are listed. I visited the ring barrow mound of Rathbeg, probably continuously used over this entire period, the great mound at Rathcrogan, the site of major royal celebrations and the medieval raised ring fort of Rathmore. Not easy to photograph from the ground, where they appear as grassy mounds but their sheer size and concentration are impressive.

The ring barrow fort at Rathbeg

The ceremonial mound at Rathcroggan

The ring fort at Rathmore

But I wanted to talk about something else.

I met a fellow at Rathbeg. I’ll call him Patrick. I’d watched him slowly walking the fields around the mound, head down searching. Is he looking for stone axes or ancient relics?

Patrick searching the fields around Rathbeg

We had a chat and the answer was not what I expected. He was searching for psilocybin better known as magic mushrooms. Patrick had a little bag full after an hour of searching. He told me he takes one dried every four days to manage his headaches and migraines and has been doing so for sixteen years. We searched together for a while but the slender bulbous fungi proved elusive.

A magic mushroom pokes through the grass

Part of Patrick’s harvest

Detail of magic mushrooms

Magic mushrooms are among the oldest recreational drugs that human beings have ever used. They are believed to have been used for over 5,000 years down to the pop culture of today.

Hard evidence of its use in ancient Ireland is scant but this is hardly surprising. Indirect evidence however suggests widespread use in neolithic times. The rock art in Knowth and Newgrange is thought by some archaeologists to reflect the psychedelic state of the artist. Many traditional Irish tales seem to disguise the psychedelic experience in metaphor. For example hazelnuts accidentally ingested by Fionn mac Cumhaill, which gave him wisdom and pleasure, are though by some to be liberty cap or amanita muscaria mushrooms. Old stories of St. Brendan, refer to .him finding “fruits” – some poisonous, some euphoric that staved off hunger. Visions of faeries are so strongly associated with mushrooms that the Gaelic slang for faeries and mushrooms is the same: ‘pookies’. A magic mushroom trip has you “away with the faeries.” Or “off with the pixies.”

But what I found really interesting was Patrick’s comment that he has found the best place to find these mushrooms was at Ancient Sites. His idea was that it was the reason the sites were there and that mushrooms formed a fundamental part of their religious, cultural and social fabric.

An intriguing thought. I left him to his searching.

Categories: My Journey, Real Ireland | Tags: Ancient sites, barrow mound, history, Ireland, megalithic monuments, photography, Rathbeg, Rathcroggan, Rathmore, ring fort, Roscommon, royal site, Royal Sites, travel, travel photography | 1 Comment

More than just Hot Air. My First Balloon Flight.

Posted on October 19, 2018 by singersong

Invitations like this don’t come around very often. Certainly not for me and certainly not in Ireland. Friends, Jeanne and Natasha from Albuquerque in New Mexico (in fact you can read about how we met here) were visiting again, this time for the The Irish National Hot Air Balloon Championships in County Offaly. Held annually since 1971, this is the longest running national ballooning event in the world and the biggest in Ireland. Invitation only, up to 40 balloons from around the world, fly each year in what promised to be an incredible spectacle. It was held over the week of September 24 to 28th.

Jeanne Page and Natasha Coffing. My hosts.

There was a chance I could crew. Who wouldn’t want to be part of that? But I ummed and ahed. I was still recovering from three weeks in the US. On Tuesday it was still just a thought. By Wednesday I had the kind offer of a bed from a musician friend at her magnificent BnB in Kinnitty, Ardmore Country House. House. That sealed it for me. A night or two in quite possibly one of the best BnB’s in Ireland and some fiddle tunes was the extra incentive I needed.

Ardmore Country House BnB in Kinnitty. My home for the duration.

It was only a couple of hours drive and in dull weather I arrived at the launching place, which was the dramatic gardens surrounding Birr Caste and Demesne. Preparations were well underway for the late afternoon flight. I couldn’t find my friends from Albuquerque so I watched with great interest the activities feverishly underway, as crews readied their balloons.

Balloons were being unfurled, baskets were being loaded, flames were being thrown and one by one the giant multicoloured bubbles stood upright and drifted slowly into the hazy evening. I started to put some pieces of the jigsaw together but I really had little idea of what I was watching. As the last balloon drifted over the castle I came to the realization that my friends were in the air and that they probably had to land somewhere. So I asked someone, who seemed to know, who said they were heading to Kinnitty, about 10 km to the east. Well, turned out she didn’t actually have much more of an idea than me, or perhaps the wind didn’t cooperate but, in my haste to get to Kinnitty, I failed to notice they were actually heading northeast rather than east.

I caught up later that evening with Jeanne and Natasha at Dempsey’s Bar in the charming village of Cadamstown, 10 minutes north of Kinnitty where a regular trad session was being held. The word had got out and the pub was crammed with musicians and with ballooning people. They were lucky. It was terrific music led by local box and banjo legends, the Kinsella brothers, and at least twenty other musicians with a high energy mix of tunes and songs. Jeanne and Natasha had bought their harps with them from the States and treated us to some lovely duets.

Traditional music session in Cadamstown. Natasha and Jeanne join in on their harps.

In among the tunes we discussed the possibility of a flight the next morning. My education in ballooning continued. A decision on whether flying was possible would be made at the Pilots’ Briefing at 6:30 am. Weather conditions, in particular wind speed and direction, were the primary factors. Then the teams will move to the launch site and each pilot will make the decision as to whether they will fly. I couldn’t be guaranteed a spot in the basket but if that didn’t happen I could join the chase crew. They are charged with following the balloon to be there wherever it lands, get permission from the local farmer and collect and transport the crew and the balloon back to Birr. It looked promising.

So next morning I was there. The wind was good and the weather was fine and the decision was a Go. There was a problem though. Patchy thick fog had descended and there were worries about visibility. So the crews made their way to the site for individual pilots to make their own call. It had been a cold night and frost was still covering the ground, the wetness soaking through my waterproof boots to my toes.

A few set up and started inflating their balloons but most pilots waited. The mist had created an eerie atmosphere and while the delay was disappointing it was a hugely appealing light and plenty of opportunities for the photographer in me to experiment.

Birr Castle rises from the mist

Waiting in the frost and mist for the sun to rise

Autumn reflections

The sun bursts through the fog

A magical misty morning. More like a Monet painting.

Island in the mist

As the sun rose the feeling was that the fog would burn away and a few started to take to the air. Our pilot Steve Coffing (who just happened to be Natasha’s uncle), though remained cautious. It seemed obvious but the primary requirement was that you need to see the ground. There was still doubt about whether the fog had lifted sufficiently to give this required visibility. We waited.

Most balloons were now in the sky, but then the fog came back in and a number of the last to lift off returned to the ground. Finally Steve decided when it became clear that we had run out of time and called off the morning flight. I was actually not particularly upset as I felt happy that despite my frozen fingers, I had captured some great images. I’ll leave it to you to judge.

We adjourned for breakfast at a local cafe. Steve was confident the weather would be good in the evening and renewed my invitation to fly. He suggested I be at the afternoon briefing at 4.30 pm.

Once the fog lifted it turned into a cracker of a day. Perfect to explore the nearby Sieve Bloom. These low mountains straddle Offaly and Laois and are a wonderful mix of thick forests of spruce and pine, ancient oak and beech forests, open bog land, lakes and mountain streams cascading through mossy glens. It is a hiker’s’ paradise, so that’s what I did. But my mind was elsewhere.

On tenterhooks I attended the 4.30 pm briefing. It was a Go decision for the evening flight. But things had changed a little and the balloon that I had planned to fly in was needed for a check flight to maintain the owner’s licence. Steve managed to get a piloting spot on another balloon but I was told that balloon was full. Then fate stepped in. Nikki and Dylan, an Aussie couple I had met the previous night at the session in Cadamstown, came to my rescue. Friends of the owner of the balloon Steve was flying. they had already flown a couple of times earlier in the week. To my eternal gratitude they gave up their spot and it was Up Up and Away [Oh dear, I never thought I could be so cheesy as to use that line!]

I now joined the readying of the balloon for flight. Like me, most of my readers will not have flown in a balloon before. Well I became an instant expert. The physics is simple really. The nylon or dacron ‘envelope’ is filled with air using a large fan and this is heated until the balloon is upright. A basket is suspended underneath which carries up to four passengers, the pilot and a heat source. The heat source is an open flame fueled by propane, carried in tanks on the basket. The heated air reduces the density of the air inside the envelope compared with the colder air outside causing it to rise. The skill of the pilot comes in knowing how much heat to apply to make it rise or fall. Rapid descent can be achieved by opening the vent at the top with a rope causing the hot air to escape quickly. There is limited ability to change direction and reading the wind, which can change dramatically at different heights, is part of the skill of flying.

Simple really. A great achievement though for the Montgolfier brothers who built the first manned balloon in 1783. Love the way when they were testing it for manned flight, they proposed that convicted prisoners should be used for the first pilots. Dispensable.

So I watched the preparations with keen interest. The equipment is actually quite compact and is carried in a customized trailer.

Basket being removed from trailer

First the basket is prepared. The burner is then mounted over the four corners of the basket and the legs wrapped with a protective insulation.

Burner being mounted over basket

legs wrapped in insulating material

Burner is tested.

The propane is connected to the burner and the burner tested. The balloon is then unwrapped and laid out next to the basket which is now on its side. Inflation begins with a large fan. As the balloon expands the burner is turned on sporadically to heat the air. This process takes only a few minutes and when the balloon is full and the pilot is ready the heating is increased which pulls the basket to vertical.

Balloon is unwrapped and laid out. Everyone pitches in.

Balloon is filled with air

Vent flap is secured

Fan used to fill balloon

Air is heated once filled

Heating continues until balloon stands vertically

IT is now ready for take off. Passengers board. Joining Steve and myself was John Kelly, a local publican, with a deep knowledge of the surrounding landscape. We had a briefing. There were only a few simple rules. Keep an eye out for other balloons and livestock and power lines and communicate this with the pilot. And oh, Don’t get out of the basket. My total agreement with that one. I was definitely ‘crew’ now. We were ready to go.

There was a roar from the burner shooting flames into the balloon above and we rose effortlessly. There was no real sensation of take off. The ground just seemed to move away from us. In between the bursts of noise of the burner it was deathly quiet. Just this wonderful relaxing calm.

Lift off

Most balloons were ahead of us but as we rose, I could see them spread out before us. Some stayed low. Others were thousands of feet above us. Birr Castle and its magnificent grounds disappeared from view. Steve took us up to 2,000 ft just to show us what it felt like. Sometimes balloons go to 5,000 ft particularly if they have passengers who are sky diving. Oh my god. The thought of throwing yourself off this little basket from this height totally freaked me out. Fair play to those who can happily do this and actually much prefer it to jumping from a light plane as they have no forward velocity.

Leaving Birr Castle I

Leaving Birr Castle II

Leaving Birr Castle III

Who knows where we will end up?

Balloons fill the sky

At all levels

The balloon ‘Twister’ flying low. This was the balloon I was originally to fly in.

Bliss.

Our pilot Steve holding all the ropes

Soaring above the swans

Magic evening light

The evening sun casts our balloon shadow on the glowing trees

Looking for a landing spot

We drifted effortlessly with only occasional use of the burner for minor adjustments to our flight while I just breathed in the late evening light and dealt with the challenge of capturing the feeling as best I could with the camera. It wasn’t a point and shoot exercise. I found I needed to make constant adjustments to the exposure to compensate for how much sky there was or where the sun was. I was learning quickly. We were up there for nearly an hour. One wonderful hour. I know I would do a better job next time.

We made preparations to land. Steve was in constant radio contact with the ground support team. He had to consider a lot in deciding where to land. An open field with no trees, no power lines, no livestock, not under cultivation, not a bog and easy access. Lots to consider. Once he has decided the ground crew tries to determine the owner and seeks permission Normally the pilot would wait for clearance. In this case the landowner was thrilled we were landing in her paddock.

You have to admire the skill of the descent. It was controlled and steady with Steve adjusting both the horizontal ground speed and the descent speed. He jokingly told stories of a tradition in some places of leaf grabbing as pilots scrape the tops of trees.

But not this time. We touched the ground bounced a couple of times, dragged a little and then stopped . Remaining vertical all the time. A quick exit and the retrieval crew including Nikki and Dylan, who were waiting a short distance away stepped in to manage the deflation and unhooking of the basket.

Safe landing

Dylan and the chase crew was there to meet us

Pilot Steve Coffing and my fellow passenger John Kelly pose for the family album.

Nikki at the end of her tether

There was a celebratory atmosphere with the crew participating equally in the thrill that us virgin flyers so obviously had had. Of course once the balloon was packed and loaded there was just one thing to do. A few quiet ales and some songs (I had my guitar in the car) back in John Kelly’s pub in Birr. Perfect end to the day.

I had an amazing three days. So many people to thank for making this all possible. Jeanne Page and Natasha Coffing for thinking of me, Christina Byrne for sharing her house and her music, Steve Coffing for piloting with skill and aplomb and for making us feel comfortable and relaxed, Nikki and Dylan for giving up their spot in the basket and for making me a little homesick for a Home Among the Gum Trees, the owners Graeme and Judy Scaife for sharing their balloon with so many people in and outside of the ballooning community, to my fellow passenger John Kelly for helping me understand the landscape we were flying over and to Shane Page for sharing some tips for photographing balloons. The organizers need to be complimented also for there effortless coordination of a lovely relaxed few days of ‘competition’.

I think I might do that again.

Balloons come in all shapes and colours

Categories: My Journey, Real Ireland | Tags: balloon, Balloon Championship, Birr, Birr Castle, Cadamstown, castle, harp, hot air balloon, Irish Balloon Championship, Kinnitty, music session, National Championship, Offaly, photography, view | 1 Comment

An Ancient Coast and 5,000 years of Irish history. Maghery in Beautiful Donegal.

Posted on October 11, 2018 by singersong

One of the things I love about touring in Ireland is that you find so much to enjoy in the most unheralded and remote corner of of the country. You don’t need to join the throngs of visitors kissing stones, ticking boxes and visiting interpretive centres to enjoy the ‘real’ Ireland.

Take the village of Maghery in the the area know as The Rosses near Dungloe in west Donegal.

What drew me there was a sunny Donegal Saturdayin late autumn and a vague knowledge of some sea arches at nearby Crohy Point, a spot favoured by photographers.

Clohy Sea Arches

But I found far more.

Yes there was the Bristi Stack and the Clohy Sea Arches. Unique land forms such as these are found dotted up and down the Irish coastline. It was easy enough to find the location along a scary single lane cliff road. And I mean scary; you have no choice but to rely on the other driver to be doing the right thing.

The Clohy Sea Arches are marked on GoogleMaps but not on the ground. Clearly they don’t want people stopping. There is space for two cars to park on the verge and you can’t actually see the rock formations from the road. Feeling that sense of welcome provided by a locked farm gate you climb it and follow a track that leads toward the coast and down the hill where you get your first look at the unusual triangular arch.

Panoramic view of Clohy Sea Arches

The Bristi Sea Stack

Nestled in a small bay it is accompanied by a number of pinnacles which are the remains of similar collapsed arches. There is another quite different arch attached to the mainland at the other end of the bay where the rocks are dragged into near vertical by a fault which has since eroded out.

Natural bridge formed by erosion of fault fill material

The Bristi stack was first climbed by professional sea stack climber Iain Miller in 2011. If you are contemplating it you need ropes, a dinghy to get there, amazing skill and a whole lot of heart. Not for me but have a look at this video on climbing Bristi Sea Stack

That’s Iain Miller stands on Bristi Sea Stack. Unknown photographer. Unknown date

For more sedate pleasures I drove back to the village. Past the 1804 Signal Tower, like many others that dot dozens of remote headlands and islands along the west coast of Ireland. Built to give warning of an impending invasion by Napoleon. This one looks to be in excellent condition. I wasn’t up to the hill walk to get there this day. Thanks be to long lenses.

View in the vicinity of Maghery. Napoleonic signal tower.

Napoleonic signal tower

The village itself lies adjacent to a beautiful wide sandy strand. This Saturday it was empty except for the local equestrian group practicing their show jumping in this idyllic location. Happy horses indeed.

Maghery nestled in the bay

Practicing show jumping on the beach at Maghery

Hand painted signs on slate placed by the roadside led me to other points of interest. There is an impressive stone circle just north of the village. Again you are left to your own devices; there is no marker on the ground and no directions as to how to get there. Twenty metres in diameter and a bit overgrown but some diligent searching found this 4-5,000 year old monument. These circles are very rare in west Donegal, I believe.

Termon Stone Circle

From here you get a sense of that Donegal wildness as you look to the north east across Dungloe Bay towards Mt Errigal 23 km away on the horizon.

View across Dungloe Bay to Mt Errigal

Nearby is Termon House built in late 18th century and once owned by the local clergy sits on its own glorious beach. It is available as a luxury holiday rental.

Adjacent to the house are some impressive walls built as work relief for those affected by the famine of 1847. Hence ‘Famine Walls’. Apparently the government refused to support the then landowner who ended up footing the £1,500 cost of paying his labourers 1d a day to build the wall. Beautifully constructed though they remain standing 170 years later.

The afternoon was closing in and I could hear the ringing sounds of twenty fiddles filling my head with mazurkas and schottisches so it was time to return to Glenties. I was well satisfied with this little village that delivered a slice of Donegal’s wild coastal scenery and its human history of over 5,000 years.

Categories: Real Ireland, Wild Ireland | Tags: bay, beach, Bristi, Clohy, coast, coastline, Donegal, equestrian, Famine, famine walls, history, horses, Ireland, Maghery, Napoleon, photography, sea, sea arches, Sea stack, showjumping, signal tower, stone circle, Termon, Termon House, Termon stone circle, The Rosses, travel, wild, Wild Atlantic Way | Leave a comment

The Colorado Rockies 2. Hanging Lake and the Spouting Rock.

Posted on September 24, 2018 by singersong

This is the second of a series of blogs on the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. I visited for a week in mid September 2018. This spectacular part of the world comprises rugged mountain ranges that tower over the Mile High City of Denver. Today I will talk about a difficult-to-get-to gem in the hills above the Colorado River.

If you drive east from Glenwood Springs along Interstate I-70 towards Denver you pass into the incredible Glenwood Canyon. Twelve miles of precipitous sandstone walls loom beyond 1,000 feet above the Colorado River. Nestled in these cliffs is Hanging Lake. A short spur off the Highway takes you to the river where you need to arrive early if you want a park. There is a level concrete bike path that runs along the Colorado River and accesses the trail head, which follows the charmingly named tributary, Dead Horse Creek.

Concrete path leads to the start of the Hanging Lake trail.

You get a temporary respite with the incredible beauty of the steep hills reflected in the calm river waters but make no mistake, this is the toughest hike I have done in a long long time.

Calm reflection I

Calm reflection II

The trail climbs relentlessly for more than 300m over the relatively short distance of 2 km. You traverse rough steps or traipse over boulder covered slopes and scree or over exposed tree roots; you have to carefully place every step to be sure of your foothold. I do not recall any downward sections. Every step is up. The trail crosses the creek a few times on wooden bridges and you get delightful views of the mountain stream cascading over moss covered rocks and logs.

Near the head of the Hanging Lake Trail. Picking your way over boulder slopes.

A mountain stream I

A mountain stream II

When you think you can’t go on, it gets steeper. The worst is right at the end where giant steps are cut into the rock and you are grateful for the sturdy railing that provides some sort of barrier to the steep drop on your right. But then you are there. The trail guide says to allow one hour. It took me two.

At an elevation of 7,200 feet (2,200m – that’s roughly the height of Mt Kosciusko, Australia’s highest mountain!) you reach Hanging Lake and all that strenuous effort is soon forgotten. Fed by a bridal veil falls, it was created by a fault with its waters dammed by travertine deposits created from the underlying limestone. Only 1.5 acres in area, the crystal clear turquoise, blue and aquamarine coloured waters reflect the verdant growth that drapes the cliffs and over which the water trickles. Autumn colours and fallen logs enhance and add texture to this exquisite scene.

Hanging Lake I

Hanging Lake II

Hanging Lake. Bathed in autumn colours.

Bridal veil falls over brown and white travertine

Travertine is formed from the re-precipitation of dissolved limestone which contributes the carbonates that give the water its unique colours. You can see small trout darting about in this mountain pool. The thin air, the high cliffs and the still waters (and a little exhaustion) create a calm contemplative quietude which infects all that make it here. But nature has one more little surprise.

Mountain trout and travertine through clear waters

A further short climb takes you to the Spouting Rock. An impressive waterfall feeds the creek above the lake and dramatically spouts from a crack in the face of the cliff. You can easily walk behind the falls into a cave eroded into the limestone. Many miss this little gem and walk right on past the turn off.

Spouting Rock I

Spouting Rock II

Time to return down the same path. Any thought that the homeward journey would be easier soon dissipates. The descent is treacherous. A wooden pole, thoughtfully left by a previous hiker was an essential aid in negotiating the rocky stretches. I took my time. Another two hours before I was at the bottom. Plenty of time to chat with and provide sage advice and support to the many climbers who pass you on their way up.

Well that’s Hanging Lake. For me it was Hang-in-there Lake. So glad I did.

Categories: America | Tags: Bridal Veil, Colorado, Colorado River, Dead Horse Creek, Glenwood Springs, Hanging Lake, hiking, lakes, landscape, mountain trout, mountains, photography, reflection, Rockies, Rocky Mountains, Spouting rock, travel, travertine, trout, turquoise, USA, waterfalls | Leave a comment

The Colorado Rockies 1. Twin Lakes. A Classic Photo Opportunity.

Posted on September 22, 2018 by singersong

This is the first of a series of blogs on the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. I visited for a week in mid September 2018. This spectacular part of the world comprises rugged mountain ranges that tower over the Mile High City of Denver. There is much to see. It is a photographer’s paradise. My early plans had me on an extensive road trip that would take me to the four corners but I soon realised how impractical that was, so my travels on this occasion concentrated on the area west of Denver to Glenwood Springs, south to Cañon City and north to Estes Park. First up is my visit to the iconic Twin Lakes.

I had read about this location and its reputation for getting those classic Colorado photos if conditions are favourable. It is a half hour drive from Leadville in the Central Rockies and on the way up the Independence Pass, which I’ll talk about in an upcoming blog. It is a well known fishing, camping and hiking spot and there are, as the name suggests, two lakes are connected by a channel. If there is no wind and the sun is shining, the location provides countless photographic opportunities for symmetrical reflection of the distant mountains in the still waters of the lake. Luckily, such were the conditions on the day I visited. And to top it off I had blue skies and autumn colours and a cooperative fisherman in the mix. Here are a few of my favourites,

Quintessential Colorado.

Fall colors. Twin Lakes

A mountain stream that flows into Twin Lakes

Categories: America | Tags: autumn, Colorado, fall, fall colours, lake, landscape, mountains, photography, reflection, Rockies, Rocky Mountains, travel, Twin Lakes, USA, view | 1 Comment

CD Review: Not Before Time. Paráic Mac Donnchadha.

Posted on August 12, 2018 by singersong

I normally don’t do CD reviews of Irish music. Firstly I am friends with many of the musicians involved so it is an area that is fraught and secondly the vast majority are brilliant expressions of the variety and many nuances and interpretations of Irish music today so reviewing them is pretty pointless.

I do make exceptions though. The recent release by Páraic Mac Donnchadha Not Before Time, is one of these. First I have to declare some conflicts of interest. Páraic is a friend and has been very supportive and welcoming to me on my own musical journey and I am grateful to him for that, and secondly he has used one of my photographs on the CD. But having said that I love this album. I was lucky enough to be at the first launch concert at the Feakle Festival and got my copy there. More on that concert later.

Páraic’s playing of the banjo is a revelation the first time you hear it, and a wonderful advertisement for the much maligned instrument. The first thing that strikes you is his gentle tonality and the unadorned clarity of his music along with his steady pace where the musicality takes precedence. There is always a wonderful rhythm and pulse that is hypnotically engaging. Primarily a session player he surrounds himself with players with a similar musicality. A lover of small sessions where each musical layer can be clearly heard and contributes to the whole and where he explores unusual keys and instrumental pairings. I have had many memorable experiences listening to Páraic. Who could forget a session with Cormac Begley in A-flat at Ballyferriter, Co Kerry, in 2015 I think, that lasted 11¾ hours? Or in Friels in Miltown Malbay, during Willie Week. There is a generosity in his playing that comes out when he is sharing with like-minded players.

If that feeling was what Páraic was trying to capture in this album then he has been wildly successful. Much of it is recorded in Pepper’s Bar at Feakle and I was lucky enough to be there for one of those recording sessions. For this album Páraic has involved many of his most recent sparring partners. And that’s when his playing shines. Whether it is the sublime fluidity of Claire Egan’s fiddle or viola or the insistent rhythmic pulse of Cormac’s bass concertina or the wonderful ensemble playing of Graham Gueren, Colm Murphy, Noel O’Grady and Libby McCroghan, Páraic’s banjo is there at the heart of it. Crisp, clean and simple. No distractions. It’s all about the tune. He also plays to great effect with his brother Mac Dara and sister Sinéad and in a tribute to his roots, honours his father Séan by revisiting one of his songs. But there are a few tracks where he is on his own, and this is where his mastery comes to the fore. He plays with just the subtle and supportive bouzouki of talented young Waterford player and instrument maker, Macdara Ó Faoláin or the gentle guitar of Terence O’Reilly.

The tune selection is fantastic. Really, really good. Many are familiar, some not, but they always come up fresh with Páraic’s playing approach or with his local versions or the unusual key selections. Sometimes it ensnares you and you just don’t want the track to end.

The CD itself is brilliantly presented with a comprehensive and informative book integrated into the cover. Paraic’s musings on his musical journey and influences reveal a man who writes as well as he plays. And I found the thoughtful and well researched tune notes by Graham Guerin added considerably to my listening enjoyment.

The concert to launch the album was held in the marquee at the back of Pepper’s Pub during the Feakle Festival. Gracing the stage were (almost) all the musicians who played on the album. With the wonderful bonus of a guest spot from Martin Hayes who spoke eloquently of Paraic’s music and its East Galway roots and the connection with East Clare. Having all this amazing music served up to us in a venue packed with appreciative fellow musicians, had me salivating!

So on the drive from the concert to my home at Quilty, a drive of well over an hour, I listened to the album. Such a generous slab of music reflects the man. Eighteen tracks took me to my front door!. And I listened again the next morning . This time on a good sound system. Just beautiful. And it hasn’t come off the player since.

How could I fail to love this music. It has truly captured the spirit that Páraic engenders when he shares his music making with his fellow musicians. Now he has shared it with us. We can all sit in.

Not before Time.