Sunday 9 June 2013

Long Live the Weeds

Saturday June 8th
Patrick my nephew drove me to Castlederg to where he picked me up yesterday.  There was a long climb out of the town, up and up and up for about four miles, a tough start to the day.  On the way up I passed a field with flock of dark brown and black sheep.  I had never seen so many together before.  There was an expanse of bog cotton on my right.  But mainly I just concentrated on getting to the top.  When I did eventually get up there the view was marvellous. There was the whisper of gentle cool breeze form the east.   I could see for miles on every side as far as the blue hazed mountain ranges and I counted seven wind farms.  Below was a patchwork of fields, many framed with white hawthorn blossom.  All the way down I could simply luxuriate in the exuberance of nature.  It was a glorious morning to be walking this little country road with very few vehicles, a blue sky and a far away contrail in the clear sky from a single jet plane heading west to the USA or Canada. A tinkling invisible stream accompanied me on the way down hidden by the surfeit of growing things.  At one place the farmer had planted a hedge of purple rhododendrons for a few hundred yards.  It would have been a great improvement if he had planted a greater variety of them flowering at different times and maybe added a bit more interest with lilac and laburnum and such like.  But I’ll give him credit for making the effort even if it could have been much more imaginative.  There were giant wild rhubarb plants with their reddish brown and green stalks and all my usual friends many of which I do not know their names – little blue flowers, white ones, robin-run-the-hedge, nettles, lots of grasses, broome and as usual, whins.  To paraphrase Hopkins, long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

I came to the little village of Clady and I was back on the main road so that I had to concentrate on the vehicles coming towards me rather than the sights and sounds around me.  The day had lost some of its magic.  Also it was getting to be a very hot day.  I stopped before I reached Lifford because as usual the toes on my right foot were crying out for attention.  So I took of my shoes and socks by the side of the road, had half my lunch and wrote a few notes.  In Lifford I had a bowl of soup and coffee in MacAuley’s café.  Then on again to Johnston (it is also spelt Johnstown on some of the sign posts).  I chose a little used road rather than the main one.  After a few miles a man was standing by the side of the road waiting for me.  He had seen me back a bit.  We chatted about my walk and he gave me a donation.  A little while later a car stopped with a man and a woman.  They also gave me a donation.  I came to Maggie’s bar about 2 miles outside Saint Johnston and since my toes were complaining again, I went in, had a shandy, rested and nursed my feet, had the rest of my lunch and walked on to Saint Johnston.  Phoned Patrick to come for me on the north side of Saint Johnston.  I am well ahead of my schedule and looking forward to walking a bit less on each of the remaining three days.  It has been such a hot day.  As I write this I am now fresh and clean having showered and on my second beer.  I can smell the barbeque. 

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