This afternoons walk...

Short on pleasant words I'm afraid so just pictures of 7 mile walk around Moel Famau this afternoon:

Well, when in Wales...

Mmmm another possible Bog Monster

Till next time (maybe with more words, well maybe), your friend,

John

No silver lining here...

             My spirits, mood, zest for life call it what you is, to honest at an all time low at the moment so please forgive my wallowing in self pity. It feels that my life is a state of flux at the moment and there is bugger all that I can do about it. Today was the first opportunity for me to hit the trails with YLB after her first (and last!) season had finished.

            To be honest the walk was fine, bathed in glorious spring sunshine we wandered the trials following no particular route, just where my feet felt at ease. The trees afforded plenty of shade and Willow seemed to get great pleasure from being able to stretch her Bambi like legs. One thing you realise when in contact with Mother Nature is that nothing stays the same forever; everything that seems solid and permanent is in a state of continuing change – it’s quite a sobering thought isn’t it? I did manage a few pictures so I hope these give you some relief from my glum words;

Unfortunately the state of melancholy that seems to be the order of the day for me of late has not truly lifted and to be honest I cannot see an end to it in the near future. Yes I have personal issues at home clouding my life at the moment but hey, don’t we all? To go into these would not make enjoyable reading for you folks and after all it’s not what you want to hear from the fish here is it? I was thinking of not bothering to enter a post, perhaps for some time, perhaps for good, considering my present disposition, but honestly it does help a little to put my thoughts in some kind of order instead of the emotional and erratic mess they’ve been in of late. So I offer you my humblest apologies for this piece of self indulgent musing and I promise you that when I post again the reading of it will be far more enjoyable for you all.

I’ll go now and sit in the garage, hopefully working upon the staff will let my mind drift and find a little sanctuary from dark thoughts.

Until better times brighten my writing – your friend, John

Clearing the mind

There’s bit a little bit of an odd feeling been coursing through my limited thought processes over the past few days of late. Now don’t be getting me wrong here but maybe it’s just a small attack of ‘mid life crises’ ooh such a blanket covering description that, and why does it only seem to apply to us blokes? Personally I thought I had my mid life crises when I wanted a new rubber duck for bath time, and that was years ago! But getting back to the point at hand, lately I’ve been feeling disconcerted at my life some what, not in a ‘oh my god what’s the meaning of it all?’ sort of way, just….oh I don’t know…. Just as if something was missing or I could have done more with it. True there are some personal issues going on in the Wooldridge household of late (notice the word personal, so don’t even think of asking ya buggers), work has been even worse than the usual grind and there has been a couple of close friends who’s lives have been turned upside down at the moment and all I can do is just be there to listen when they need to rant or pour their hearts out and I so hate being powerless like that.

So I felt the time had come to take stock a little, to try and rid myself of the malaise which seems to have smothered me of late rendering me extremely open either to long periods of doing nothing or opening the door to the Grumpster once more. It seemed to be the ideal opportunity, what with the warthog coming into season and Clare working these last few days,  it gave me a little ‘me time’. So there would be now trail breaking, I mean to say a lone man walking with his dog is not given a second glance upon the walks that we’re doing at the moment, but take the hound away from the equation and in most peoples eyes you become a harbinger of evil, met with down cast eyes instead of the usual smiles and left with audible sighs of relief as you pass on by. I’m not a people person as you all know too well but I do not like making people uncomfortable upon the walks, well unless they really deserve it that is. So tacking back to the thread, here’s me now with some considerable time to contemplate life, the universe and everything or at least try to get my head around what’s the matter with me.

So the first step was to totally ignore the ‘to do’ list provided by my beloved Clare (oh I’m going to pay for that, I just know it!), I sauntered into the inner sanctum and man’s last refuge, the garage and realised that somebody has not finished tiding it up fully, that’ll be me then. In the past I admit that I’ve guilty of suffering from the butterfly effect when it comes to my many, many projects taking more on, flitting from one to another and never completing a damn thing, and here was proof positive that I’d done it again, a half tided garage. So with a steely glint in my eyes I headed straight for the kitchen and made myself a steaming mug of tea (using the big mug) and realised that the scamp formally known as Willow, but hence forth known as ‘you little bugger’ had herself felt the urge to be constructive and had rearranged the freshly delivered free newspaper to her own high standards.

Sigh, after clearing up YLB’s little bit of fun, mug in hand I returned to the inner sanctum, steely glint firmly ensconced in my eyes. Obviously the first task was to make a clear plan of action and follow it through to the bitter end, this was easily done as the CD player was devoid of debris and was soon belting out Iron Maiden for all and sundry to enjoy (of course my elderly neighbours like it, I have to have it really loud so that with their limited hearing they can enjoy master Dickenson’s lyrics to the full). So with the plan made and then completed, whirlwind like I spent the next eight or so hours furiously tiding the garage. Two fully laden trips to the tip and mission impossible was, well possible to be honest and the garage is now once more that bastion on meditation and manliness that it deserves to be. Funny thing is as I was beavering  away for those hours a calm came across my simple mind and the inner turmoil that had been so disconcerting had faded somewhat.

The dawn of a new day and steely eyed John once more headed into the garage, steaming mug clenched tightly in hand. Failing to notice the complete absence of the dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties John gazed at the two projects that lay now if front of him now the clutter had been banished from his holy shrine. There in the lower half, waiting like a long forgotten lover lay Carpe Diem, her gently flowing lines calling for my tender touch.

Bugger need to order marine ply, stalking out of the garage once more a couple (well ok several) phones calls to obtain the best price for a piece of marine ply to be delivered post haste were made and the wheels for the boat renovation were once more in motion. Once again I returned to the garage, fresh steaming mug in hand (I like tea, ok?) not failing to notice how little interested YLB appeared to be, she’s got a lot to learn about garages that one has I’m telling you.

So the second project was undertaken, now you may remember a much earlier post by yours truly about the disconcertion and apprehension when meeting a certain type upon isolated trials and the conclusion being made that a walking stick made from blackthorn would be a suitable… er…. friend to have with me upon the trials. Well with my usual laid back attitude I’d done bugger all about it but now here, the answer lay before my very eyes; a piece of apple wood that I’d plum forgotten about for eons (did you like that, apple, plum?). A quick waying up and yes it would certainly fit the bill for a walking staff. So without further ado the piece was cut to a comfortable length and I proceeded to remove the outer bark. And here’s the rub, the final piece of the jigsaw that brought my roving mind back to earth, so to speak. It was whilst working this staff that I began to see the world through different eyes. It’s funny, but this type of work is alien to what I’m use to; after all I’m just a grease monkey use to spanners and metal in my hands, but working with wood id a whole new ball game, there’s so much more thought required, so much more of a connection with the work. I even found that I just had to sit there a while and ‘feel’ what the wood was telling me for want of better words. The work takes so much longer and yet there’s a rhythm to it that allows your mind to drift and set itself in order. I came to realise that my worries were just dust on the wind, after all I’m the most fortunate man in the world; I’m loved, healthy, have simple food on the table and good ale in my belly, my face is kissed by all the seasons and I have some damn good friends. It was a feeling akin to that felt in my previous post and it looks as if I’m beginning to see the light and become at one with who I am.

I’m just a child when it comes with working with wood but I’m learning and although my early efforts may be shoddy they are bringing me piece of mind, plenty of work left in the staff but Rome wasn't built in a day. Not my usual musings I know, but just something that I wanted to share. At this point I’d like to give a huge and heartfelt thanks to my dear friend Leigh from across the pond, it’s her encouragement and enthusiastic love for wood work that has made me take an interest in it, without her I would never have discovered the joy of working with wood, thank you Leigh.

If you’ve managed to read this far then thank you for persevering with this ramble, next post will be back to normal (well as normal as I can be) – honest.

Take care for know, your friend,

John

Walking, food for the soul?

Now before you all start getting your hopes up, no this is going to be a deep and meaningful spiritual post (perish the thought) and yes it’ll still be the same aimless drivel that my blog is becoming renowned for – you have been warned. It goes without saying that just because my post titles are improving (took hours of thought this one) does not mean that the content will. So once more unto the breach dear reader and prepare for more of….er… well more of the same really.

Friday morning, the day after the last night shift of the rota and the Grumpster arises from his one hundred and twenty minutes (sounds so much more than saying; two paltry hours) of slumber. No hang on a minute, slumber denotes that I had two wonderful hours of the deepest of sleep, pah more like two hours of fitful restlessness and fidgeting. Anyway I digress, Friday morning and the Grumpster arises from the pit of sleeplessness having subsequently gained a pitiful amount of rest after his list night shift of the rota. Ah the Grumpster, the Mr. Hyde to my usual beaming Dr. Jekyll, as I gazed into the bathroom mirror I could not help but utter aloud “'O God!' I screamed, and 'O God!' again and again; for there before my eyes--pale and shaken, and half fainting, and groping before him with his hands, like a man restored from death--there stood John the Grumpster!”, not a pretty sight as my good lady Clare may well pay testament to.  You see this is what twelve hour night shifts do to me, taking such a heavy toll upon my usual placid and charming demeanor and turning me into this unrecognizable wraith from the pit of despair, whose every joint aches with discomfort and eons of graft, every muscle (yes I do have a couple left) feeling as if they’ve spent a lifetime on the rack of some hunchbacked torturer in the dankest of dungeons and my mind left a desert of happiness, devoid of good nature and full of rank and bitter thought. Even Willow was most hesitant in welcoming me as I dragged my weary frame into the kitchen, preferring to half heartedly wag her tail from under cover of the table. I managed to steal a glance from out of the kitchen window before my eyes were burned, Dracula like, from their sockets by the day’s light, enough of a look though to realise that the weather outside did not look to bad at all, well that’s as long as your resistance to a cool, drizzly, cast over, day was up to scratch which, in my debilitated condition most certainly was not the case for the Grumpster. My head swam with many dark and miserable thoughts, of work and of other personal things not to be mentioned here, filling it to the point of bursting and relieving themselves by turning into the groans and oaths uttering from my lips. Oh yes it was shaping up to be such a wonderful day for the Grumpster wasn’t it?

I turned around to find Willow unenthusiastically nudging her new collar, barely able to glance at me and just hoping that the Grumpster would flee this human form that was usually so loving towards her. “Well” thought the Grumpster, “a walk around the block will stop her pestering I suppose”. But then, perhaps pricked by conscious but probably not, the Grumpster thinks “a short walk around ‘the loop’ at Moel Famau would be better, no bleedin people to bump into and to have feign an unfelt pleasantness towards”.  So, decision made, the Grumpster dragged on jeans, steal toe capped ‘garage’ boots and a work’s jumper (not the best walking gear to say the least I fear) then, after roughly hauling the warthog into the back of the cruiser (no fun here then?), headed for the hills, still grumbling and not really focusing upon the road ahead. Isn’t it funny how, when your ‘Grumpster’ alter ego takes possession of your knackered mind when it is devoid of rational thought, you discover that every other road user is a complete imbecile who really does not deserve to be on the same piece of tarmac as yourself and perhaps should be made to retake their bloody driving test, twice! Now I’m not saying that I was offensive to other vehicle pilots but I do have a vague memory of a rather excessive use of the ol’ Anglo Saxon upon a couple of occasions , of course each occasion being totally justified… ahem… sort of.

So we final arrived at the lower car park at Moel Famau (really could not be bothered driving the extra ½ mile to the upper one) where we disembarked. Well ok, where I edged my way off the driver’s seat and painfully crept to the tailgate to release Willow from her confinement. Straight away I regretted not putting my usual walking gear on as the cold cut through my totally inadequate clothing the chill my poor bones to the very marrow, bugger. I also wished that I’d taken time to fuel up properly because a hastily eaten piece of cheese stolen from the fridge and a mug of tea (ok three mugs) does not really constitute to necessary requirements for a walk on the hills, bugger once more. With no sign of the cloud cover breaking I lurched, Ahab like, towards the first slope of the day. Ahab like? Well yes actually because my bleedin right leg had decided to stiffen up completely making me drag it along behind me like so much whale bone and that I’d also developed a squint that would not have looked out of place after a blistering day in the crow’s nest scanning some distant horizon searching for that slightly misunderstood white whale! Glancing at the heights before me my heart sank further into despair and the cold bit even deeper, thrice bugger it then. “From hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee”, not really the best thoughts to be having at the start of the day but hey ho we cannot all be a ray of sunshine first thing in the morning can we now. As I trudged morosely up the trail I noticed that the sun was starting to clear the upper ridges of the mountains folds and that the early morning mist had started to weaken, Ah the cloud must be relenting a tad then. After about a mile or so I cleared the second ridge and realized how quiet the trail was, yes there was the dampening affect of the moisture laden air but the world just was still.

Hardly a breath of breeze was there to disturb the trees and if there were any birds around they were muted and without voice. I paused to take in the vista before me. a feeling of overwhelming ‘smallness’ came over me as I drank in the crisp air and just stood and drank in the peacefulness of it all. If there was a God, thought I, it’s times like this that you should thank him for, it just felt so…. So…. Oh bloody hell don’t expect anything deep from me but it just felt so perfect, just a perfect moment in time when I felt at peace, at one with everything, when absolutely nothing mattered at all, so right, so… oh hell fire you’re probably laughing your socks off now, oh John’s seen the light, oh John’s being profound, well I’m haven’t and I’m not! It’s just that I lack the words for how I felt in that briefest of moments other than it was just so bloody well perfect.

The sound of a dog barking in the distance broke the spell, whether a moment like that will ever occur for me again I could not answer, only to say that I hope that it does. We headed onwards, my pace increasing as the aches, pains and the Grumpster were left behind on that ridge. Sensing the change Willow became animated and full of energy; her running is now truly a sight to behold, and now she quarters the trials ahead her interest and inquisitiveness showing that she’s going to be soon catching prey without encouragement from yours truly. As we passed the five mile point and turned for home Willow showed a marked interests at a spot under a low bush, easing her out of the way there, before us was the remnants of a recent kill, a male Blackbird by the feathers. There was little else to show except that the feathers were closely grouped so I’m guessing they were plucked upon or close to the ground and not high above in the bush and that the quills had been pulled cleanly out and not gnawed off. With little else to go on I’m thinking that this was killing made by a bird of prey with the feathers being pulled out cleanly, and the only one that I’ve seen around here that may feed low down in the bush would be a Merlin although I couldn’t rule out a Sparrow hawk.

Leaving the feathers behind us we carried on, the sting of the rising  cool breeze making my extremities tingle but being offset by the patches of sun lighted trail that were becoming more common. And here and there the first flowers were appearing on the trial’s edges, an herb called Coltsfoot I believe, a warming and welcome sight indeed and a sign that spring was making herself known. I even came across what could well have been a residence of the ‘little folk’ as mentioned in my friends ‘Casey’s’ post the other day. Also to found was a large expanse of frog’s spawn in a different area than where I’d spotted mating frogs earlier in the week. Although after the last couple of night’s hard frosts I fear that they may have been laid too early, a walk later in the week will be required to check if this is so.

Like the wind......

A home for the wee folk?

We stumbled into the car park thoroughly spent and knackered, the last hard night shifts of the grind having taken their toll and Willow hadn’t stopped pacing all the way round, putting another squirrel up once more as we neared the car park. They’re soon not going to be fast enough to avoid her me thinks and then there may well be trouble ahead!

I sat back into the driver’s seat, letting myself recover for what would turn out to be a less fraught drive home. Totally knackered I took a moment to reflect and listen to Willow’s hard breathing coming from the back of the car. Yes all my worries, fears and misgivings were still there but they lacked the importance and affect upon my mood as they had early in the morning. There are things that we all let get us down and drive our lives to misery but at the end of the day when all is said and done they are not important to in the great scheme of things. After all I have love in my life, food on the table, friendship of the highest order (at home and now across the pond – you know who you are) and ale to be supped, and on this walk I had experienced perhaps for the very first time in my life and for the fleetest of moments, something that I can only describe as inner peace. It’s the only way that I can say how I felt and I hope that it won’t be the last time that it happens, it’s a feeling that totally overwhelmed me and it is something that I wish you could all share and experience. Funny that, from Grumpster to a man who found peace all because of taking a walk…..

For now take care, your friend,

John

Spring's Herald...

It would seem that spring is finally sprung, well at least there some small signs of a breakthrough here. It was whilst walking along the trials around Moel Famau t’other day that spring gave me a little tentative nudge to say “high honey I’m home”, or will be pretty damn soon. Amphibians, that’s what the nudge was good folk, amphibians indeed. It does seem that the little blighters are becoming a regular feature of my recent postings lately.

But I digress there was not just the amphibians that were heralding the imminent arrival of spring and her long awaited release from the gloomy winter evenings. As I’ve already mentioned that little scamp Willow is coming on in leaps and bounds and we’re travelling further and further upon the trails, revisiting areas long missed. Indeed my slowly diminishing waistline is giving testament to the distances now covered and soon it’ll be time to dust off the old rucksack as demands for these increasingly longer walks require more thought and provisions.

So it was upon our latest, extended, walk that the signs of spring are slowly becoming more evident. There is a different taste to the air, somehow fresher and cleaner. The temperatures have not increased dramatically (there was a frost last night) but I’m already finding that my winter coat is upon the edge of been discarded till late autumn comes around once more, in fact I think another few weeks and the walking boots will join it in favour of me ol’ desert wellies! There are signs that the trees are rising from their long slumber and the bird life upon the trails is becoming more frantic as thoughts turn from survival to nest building and mating. The days are becoming longer with the increased hours of light enabling us the travel even further, although as the days extend there seems to more and more for me to do around the home, plotting to contain the wanderlust that is in my heart. Ah the signs are there right enough although there may still be a sting in winters trail before his departure has truly happened.

So all that is left for my is to share with some pictures of the trial with you and hope that spring is brightening your day where ever you are;

And what of the amphibians that I spoke of? Well the little devils are at it far earlier than I can recall in past years, maybe we’re in for a long hot summer, time will tell. Also where they were found was considerably higher up the hills than I’ve seen them before, and yes I did manage to take the odd snap;

Till next time, take care.

John