Dandelion

"It's a flower not a dandelion" insisted the indignant three-year-old yesterday before we left her for a trip to rugby disappointment. There's a lion theme to this blog, dandy or not, coincidently as Leo Vradkar vies to replace Enda Kenny running the country. We've seen the Leinster Rugby mascot, Leo the Leinster Lion for the last time this season. It's Scarlets that head to the Pro12 final in our home city. 

I came away from the game last night, dispirited, thinking of George Best who said "I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars. The rest I just squandered." It's the last bit that came to mind. Maybe coach Leo Cullen and his management team have squandered the talent that earned five selections for the imminent Lions tour of New Zealand. Saracens, who are on track for a double double had six Lions selected. Leinster, in the same two seasons, have managed to lose two semis and one final. That's poor, very poor. A management problem with serious implications; the inspiration of three European Championships in the four seasons 2009-2102, the European Challenge Cup in 2013 and the Pro12 in 2013 and 2014, successes that filled the rugby academy with amazing young talent, is perhaps being squandered.

dandelions,

dandelions

on the sandy shore -

spring

opens its eyes

Ogiwara Aeisensui

These are things that were in my head as I walked 8 km just to to get to the start of the Dublin Mountains Way in Rathmichael Wood. There were other thoughts too, as I put on and off my rain-gear as the showers drifted over me. I had been to a Cecil Beaton photo exhibition during the week where I realised that fake news and photoshop are just new terms for old concepts. Char to Dowager is worth a look, from the Beetles+Huxley gallery where some 70 photos, all printed before 1945, are being sold.

The beach and some of the mountain walks were augmented by the musky smell of valerian. There were no deer to see because the forest is being logged.

Imagine being so sick that you need home visits by nurses. Imagine having a friend who one day takes you out to lunch where one of your carers happens to see you. Imagine being told that since you have a friend who can drive you to lunch, you no longer need home visits. Is this nationalised health care? 

I wanted to walk the whole way, as I did last year. But I hit the wall on Ballyedmonduff, carried on to Three Rock where my packed lunch did nothing to restore me. So I called for rescue and walked back to Johnnie Fox's pub where I was collected and transported to sanctuary. Only 26 km today according to Walkmeter. But it's OK, there's a month to recover from the blisters and even better, we have reached one of our sponsorship goals.

And I see that I also used Dandelion as a title in 2011.

Burgundy

This morning I woke to a dawn chorus like I don't think I've heard before. Breakfast and then I walked along the disused railway from St Desert towards Buxy and up to Rosey, some 7.5 km. The disused railway is really a cycle path, flat and a bit boring being also boxed in by hedgerows. And those hedgerows are at 10:30 in the morning absolutely full of birds singing, calling, trilling under high-pressure blue skies; it's a beautiful day and it feels like a world apart from the rest. You would never know that fascists and comments are vying for power via the ballot box, today the first voting day in the French presidential elections.

There were lots of Charolais in the fields, not surprising since we are only a few kilometres from their origin at Charolles. The vineyards of Givry, think Premier Cru (Côte Challonnaise), are visible to the north from Rosey. So many well manicured towns here. And so many second homes. 

As to the rugby, we were a bit late to the start due to traffic, much like Leinster themselves. Ten down as we reached our already occupied seats; we had heard all the scores as we circled the stadium looking for the right entrance. The carnival continued and that brief period of yellow shocked quiet in the second half, before the TMO broke our hearts, was reason enough to have traveled so far.

We lost. but we lost well. And they won and of all the teams in Europe, their fans are reason enough not to begrudge Clermont yet another shot at their first European Rugby Cup title. Their opponents are a good second reason to support the "lions" slayers. A tough ask, I don't see Clermont beating Saracens but we can hope Ici. Ici. C’est Mont-ferrand!

I think it's OK to have digressed to Lyon for this post because after the game we rented bikes and cycled some 8 km around the two rivers and old town. After this short cycle, perhaps foolhardy because my knee had been quite sore earlier, it stopped hurting. Nonetheless, I'm taking a few days off to recuperate.

It's 235 km walked in 28 walks taking about 50 hours. So projecting this average pace to the Y3P, where degrees are C and distances imperial, the 25 miles should be achieved in well under the mandatory 12 hours even allowing for those three peaks of Pen-y-Ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough.

Hurrah, we've raised 65% of our £5000 target. Could it be your time to sponsor us here?

Arise

This morning I have woken up to a bright day. There's enough light to facilitate photography. Encouraged,  I look. And I'm in catch-up mode. After a very short walk we did this morning, a day after rugby results went our way.

A dusting of ice runs along the ridgeway of the neighbours house, a line of warm white smoke emerges from their chimney, rising vertical into still cold airs. A hooded crow, maybe two, is hammering something on the flat roof above my head. Or perhaps our neighbour will see there are a couple of crows dancing.

There's finely macerated leaf material wind splattered and rain smeared on the bedroom window. Memories of the fierce storm just a couple of nights ago. Last night's excitement was a police helicopter whose searchlight passed through our garden at 2 AM. Z watched it from beside us as we slept, oblivious.

Below my third story perch, a domed green-grey acacia has budded with an explosion of spring yellow that contrasts with the open nature of the blue Douglas fir and vertical funeral green of the Italian cypress. A small garden that may be too full.

with a crunching sound

the praying mantis devours

the face of a bee

Yamaguchi Seishi

The sea beyond looks calm. The bay appears blue. Calm and blue, cold. Ferries and freighters cut across the bay. The brown trees, leafless, frame the view yet flicker with magpies, jewel like in the low winter sun. Another ephemeral shimmer in the far distance, sunlight reflecting from a glazed surface that I know to be at least 25 km away. Half way there is a friend's house I could see with the right lens.

A photograph might bring any of these things to reality better than the words I have used. The smoke will be frozen, like the ridgeway. The rattle of the magpies, the thrum of the helicopter, the mantis crunch, the hammering of the crows you'd have to imagine.

The air is always still in a photo so you'd need visual clues to imply / sense movement. The temperature of the sea becomes irrelevant unless the image includes something like dinghies crewed by the hardy in wet suits. The dirt on the double glazed window will disappear in the deep depths of image field or emerge pin sharp if it becomes the object in focus.

Such ambiguity of content is in stark contrast with the precision of technique in its portrayal.

The pleasing photograph pleases whom? And how much time will the viewer have? What does the image need to hold the viewer a fraction longer? If the Namibian Himba tribe have five words for the colour green, what do they see so differently to the rest of us?

Depictions and contradictions.

Yellow

"Yellow is the colour of my true love's hair, in the morning, when we rise" sang Donovan in Colours back in 1965. Today's yellow was a little different - the return of Spring colour.

We walked the 3.5 km loop again with dog and rugby optimism: what's the point of pessimism if you have to live defeat twice?

And that's it for today: I need to recover from yesterday's excess.

Loop

The Rugby World Cup is on and I'm in London without match tickets. So I took the tube from Wembley Park to Stratford in order to walk between two venues in which Ireland would be playing.

It took just over 7 hours, a bit longer than I expected. I followed the London Capital Loop signage (in reverse direction) but it's not perfect and I got diverted a few times. I don't recommend this particular walk for fun - I'm sure it's more interesting by bike. I think the portions through Abney Park cemetery and along the disused train line around Crouch End were the most interesting to me. The lack of signage around East Finchley and Hampstead was annoying. And the final leg through suburban sprawl to Wembley Park was depressing.

I posted photos to WhatsApp as I walked, another opportunity to experiment with new Moment lenses on an Apple iPhone 6.

Later, I used Adobe Slate to put this flow together which explains the delay between the walk on 26th of September and my first post in this new blog.

My feet are now at least five years older than the photo.