Category Archives: Ireland

The Copper Coast: a Thrifty shore

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Powerstown head from the Guillamenes

Sea Thrift that is, Armaria maritima, also known as sea pinks.

First thrift of 2012

Ireland’s Copper Coast has a lot of it, growing all along the coast on the cliff edges, in rock crevices and stony ground where nothing else grows.

Growing on otherwise clear stony rockfall

It’s a perennial which has a high drought and salt tolerance, in fact it seems to do best in the driest, most exposed locations, especially along cliff edges.

Faded Thrift on clifftop above Kilfarassey

Older plants will grow larger clumps of leaves and roots.

On top of a rock spire at entry to Gararrus

It’s apparently highly copper tolerant, and flourishes along the Copper Coast, and in fact if the Copper Coast were to have an icon flower it would have to be the thrift, which displays a subtle range of colour from pink to mauve and purple from plant to plant.

Its season is early summer, so the coast is rampant with it at the moment, one of the signs of summer for a south-east open water swimmer, water reaching 10 degrees Celsius, and passing the thrift on the steps down to the Guillamene.

When I think of it, and therefore the photographs I take, are as I most commonly see it, silhouetted against the sea or the sky, framing events in the sea, or faded but still present during the winter, and always standing against the onshore Atlantic winds.

Thrift & Sheep Island, sea, sky and flowers.

When you can appreciate thrift in such extraordinary scenery, why would you want to trap it in a domestic garden?

Thrift against sea and canoes at Kilfarassey

It seems I’ve taken a lot of pictures of thrift (there are 98 tagged in my library so far and many more I still want to take, so you can image it was difficult to choose just a few), from early season buds, to summer blooms and late season stragglers to dead winter flowers.

Winter Guillamenes thrift

Apparently … I love sea thrift.

A visit to Hook Head

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Hook Head is one of our favourite places in Ireland. I’ve been lucky enough to finally get a new halfway decent camera so I wanted to take a visit to the Hook for some long-hoped-for photos for the site. A long flat low bare almost treeless peninsula in the south-east, at the other side of the Suir-Nore-Barrow estuary, it stretches out into the Celtic Sea and at the end is Hook Lighthouse, reputedly the oldest operational lighthouse in the world. (You’ll have noticed by now that I have a thing for lighthouses). Unlike most lighthouses, there are actually public tours and inside the modern tower are the older walls of the 13th century tower

Estuary up toward Waterford from above Passage East

The fastest way to the Hook from Waterford is on the car ferry at Passage East, the trip across the estuary takes about 4 minutes.

Passage ferry

Just outside Duncannon is an old lighthouse for the inner estuary.

Duncannon Lighthouse (1774)

Halfway down the est side of the estuary is town of Duncannon which was used as a military Fort to protect the entry to the estuary.

Duncannon Windsurfer (taken on greyer day)

Duncannon beach is very popular with wind and kite surfers.

Duncannon Fort & Hook Lighthouse in the distance

Hook reefs

 

The currents round the Hook are pretty vicious and it catches a lot of very rough water, howling winds and big unsurfable waves. It’s also a great spot for whale watching.

Before the Hook on the west side is an old small fishing slip, with only mere nubs of rusted iron stakes left in the rocks, which is a nice walk where few of the visitors go.

There are some interesting blowholes in the rocks, with a northerly offshore wind and flat water that day, they weren’t providing any entertainment but I took some a very short video there previously.

The dogs like the area.

Scout on the reefs on the reefs

Lighthouse & buildings from the gate

The (probably apocryphal) story told locally is that that the phrase “by hook or by crook” derives from Hook Head, referring to Ireland’s historical bete-noir Oliver Cromwell who stated his intention to invade by Hook Head or by Crook Head, which is on the opposite side of the estuary.

Lighthouse from the road

The old residential buildings are used for a café and gift shop and children’s art gallery. The café serves the largest chunks of cheddar in their Ploughman’s Lunch!

Lighthouse from below the road

Hook lighthouse

Unsurprisingly for somewhere with a lighthouse, the area is surrounded by exposed reefs.

The dogs would happily stay playing around.

Time to go you say?

The first monastery (St. Dubhan’s) was built on the peninsula in the 5th Century AD and there are still remains of a later Church on the same site. In Irish the Hook peninsula is actually named after this Church.

Dubhan's Church

There’s a great view of the whole estuary, and the western bank including  Crook Head, Dunmore east, Creaghan Head, Woodstown and Passage East.

Waterford to Passage East to Dunmore & Crook Head (size has been reduced so it loads quickly)

When we got home Toby would have stayed in the car. He loves the car.

Thinking of a visit? The Hook Lighthouse webcam is my favourite webcam.

Hook Head webcam.

Related articles:

HookHeritage website.

Lighthouses of the North Atlantic – loneswimmer.com

Sailing from Crosshaven to Dungarvan – loneswimmer.com

Tall Ships Waterford 2011 – loneswimmer.com

St Patrick’s Day swimming nutrition. Not really. How to make a great Irish Coffee

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I make a great Irish Coffee. Follow this and you will too. First, make sure you have the ingredients and requirements. You will need:

Irish whiskey. Note the correct spelling of whiskey, spelled without the e is Scotch. Paddy or Power’s Whiskey is preferable for this.

Freshly whipped cream (if I see you with aerosol spray cream, which is an abomination, I’ll hunt you down and humiliate you). Whip it yourself. In fact, whip yourself if you feel like it. We’re all adults here.

You don’t want the cream too thin or stiff. Soft peaks, just able to flow.

Brown or muscovado sugar.

Glasses, (I really do prefer the Irish coffee type of glass, there’s a reason they are generally used but a long stem glass is also good), teaspoons, dessert spoons. (If you use something opaque it’ll be harder to judge levels).

A shot glass for the whiskey measure.

Good coffee. No instant. You can use decaf if it’s late at night and you are off coffee for training.

(I also use a Cadbury’s Flake for sprinkling the chocolate).

Steps:

  • Make the coffee.
  • Use the boiling water and warm BOTH shot glass and Irish Coffee glass, keeping a small spoon in the Irish Coffee glass to keep it from cracking.
  • Pour a measure of whiskey into the warm shot glass to warm the whiskey. Otherwise cool or cold whiskey will cool the final product. Not that I have anything against extra whiskey, but don’t use too much as it will affect the final shape.
  • Pour the warmed whiskey into the coffee glass and add the coffee.
  • You have to leave room for cream AND sugar so there will less coffee than you think. Sugar really does take up space in the glass. Some Irish coffee glass will have lines for the whiskey and the coffee.
  • Add 3 teaspoons of sugar. YES, 3. I don’t care if you are on a diet or don’t like sugar. Stir.Then use your spoon to stop the liquid rotation.
  • Pour the fresh cream over the back of a dessert spoon onto the top of the coffee or, if it’s too stiff, use the spoon to add it to the top. The 3 spoons of sugar and stopping the rotation is to stop the cream mixing with the coffee/whiskey. Using less than 3 spoons will cause the final product to mix and be too bitter.
  • Add flaked chocolate on top.
  • Despite precautions this drink won’t hold heat very long.
  • The solution therefore is to make lots of it.
  • Happy St. Patrick’s Day

English: Irish Coffee glass

The Irish (or Scots Gaelic) term Uisce beatha, “the water of life” is where the word comes from.

(I also like this with brandy, to make French Coffee).

There are NO circumstances in which it is ok to say “St. Patty’s Day”

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I have been deputized to speak on behalf of the entire country of Ireland in this. We have  universal agreement. It may in fact be the only thing we all agree on.

March 17th is St. Patrick’s Day, St. Paddy’s Day or just Paddy’s Day. It is not ever St. Patty’s or St. Pattie’s Day. Patty may have something to do with hamburgers or women called Patricia, but nothing to do with Ireland.

St. Patty’s Day is just … wrong. No ifs, ands or buts.

Also an Irish person can call themselves a Paddy or a Mick, because it might be their names. If you are not Irish, you can’t.

And here’s my final tip: Never, never, never, imitate an Oirish accent to an Irish person.

If there could be said to be a traditional St. Patrick’s Day, it’s spring lamb. Not bacon and cabbage or corned beef. Also, we don’t all wear green and fight for fun.

I couldn’t find a picture of a leprechaun in a tricolour cap, Speedoes and goggles to make this post fully authentic. :-) So instead here’s a photo of Irish two-time English Channel Swimmer Jim Boucher, sometimes called the Leprechaun, (but not by Irish people), from Emma France‘s blog.

Monday Morning Similarities – Stephen & Lisa

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I find a lot of similarity between Stephen Redmond’s fantastic Molokai Channel and Lisa Cummins’s two-way English Channel.

Waiting for news and updates all through a Sunday afternoon and night. The trackers working intermittently or not at all, and hoping for more updates from the boat through third parties. The agonising last 10 hours, wondering where they were, imagining ourselves out there in the water with them, wishing there was some way we could send out some mental help to them, wanting so hard to be able to send them our best, knowing that these two extraordinary people were making you really proud to be Irish and to know them even slightly is a privilege.

Stephen and Lisa both getting swept past the normal finish points and ending up in locations where no-one has ever previously ended a swim, Lisa on Dungeness and Stephen on Oahu’s Chinese Walls.

Finally, tired when the swims were over, trying to sleep, and lying there in the dark, thinking it all over, thoughts and imagination swirling around your head, knowing how difficult it would be to explain to others just how extraordinary these achievements are.

Another great moment in Irish and global sport, spent at home in front of a computer and a phone, connecting with friends also awake doing the same thing, done by two ordinary people, with nothing but dreams and extraordinary determination propelling them. In some way the loneliness of the watcher mirroring the loneliness of the swimmer, the empathic bond that distance swimmers feel with each other, purely through being the few who can understand.

First thing on different Monday mornings, listening to each of these extraordinary athletes on Irish radio, sounding like they hadn’t been through hell, my eyes tearing up just listening to them.

I thank them both for these unique moments and memories and making me so proud.

Steve Munatones a post-swim report on DailyNewsOfOpenwater which, as always with Stephen Redmond, is essential reading.

Can I remind you all again about Stephen’s fundraising links?
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Swimming with The Second Law of Thermodynamics

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This is a one subject site, open water swimming.

Everything on the site relates to open water swimming. But since open water swimming is part of my life, sometimes other parts of my life or some of my interests get pulled in. They may look tangential but it’s because I’m trying to contextualize my swimming life. Like all open water swimmers, you can’t extract open water swimming from our lives and somehow find the real person.

So I occasionally write about Ireland and Irish culture or humour, because it’s where I (mostly) swim. I write about pool swimming occasionally, because it’s where I swim half of the year. (But there are a multitude of better pool swimmers than me, so when I write about it, it’s from an average pool swimmer’s point of view).

I write about the sea, the weather, my dogs who accompany me to the coast, the books or media that inform or help my swimming. I write about my swimming friends, real life and online (I don’t distinguish, I don’t have to have met someone to consider them a friend) from whom I learn.

I was getting some aches as the training volume was building up so I had another massage at the end of the week. I was developing a tightness in the centre (belly) of my left deltoid (shoulder muscle) and a really deep and sore ache in my right trapezoid (upper centre back). I also has a serious pain above my left glute (butt cheek) that only expressed itself once a swim went over three hours, (so this wasn’t a problem much). The massage hurt like hell. The delt eased out completely, I won’t know about the glute until the next long swim. The trap was still really sore afterwards and I hoped it would ease out over the next 24 hours. To aid that I looked forward to the weekly (at this time of the year) cold water swim.

This is my home. Guillamene Cove, on Saturday, from side to side, Click to mucho embiggen

It was a horrible morning. Cold all week, it was a little bit warmer on Saturday while rest of Europe was being hammered on the anvil of an extreme cold snap, with even the sea-shore freezing in Britain. But the air temperature leaving the house was about 8 degrees Celsius. This is the advantage of Irish weather, it’s mild in average, no great summers, no terrible winters. But the sea water temperature was down to 6° Celsius (43°f). It was overcast, Force Three onshore wind and with about a two metre swell, but I didn’t care. Just let me out there.

According to Polar Bear Joe at the Guillamene, it was 41°f the previous day (5°C) with colder air, coldest water temperature of this winter so far.

The entry was fine, and the next 14 minutes were euphoric. That word actually came to me while I was swimming. Isn’t that part of the reason we swim, that feeling? I’ve been trying to explain that feeling for two years now. During the swim, all my existential worries evaporated and I was at peace for the first time in a week. At the fifteenth minute I noticed the cold pain beginning in fingertips and feet. Given conditions were a bit rough and I would need to navigate the rougher water returning over the Comolene reefs, I turned back before I reached the pier. I was in toward shore closer than my normal outside deeper returning track, and it was really rough passing beneath the last house on the cliff.

The coast road from the Guilllamene facing Tramore, running above the normal swim route

I was back to the steps at 41 minutes, stumbled upwards on my numb feet to my fake Crocs (thanks Nuala) high on the steps. Someone started talked to me as I fumbled to get my goggles, cap and earplugs off. All I heard was a voice. With the ear plugs off and as my eyes cleared, it was someone with an American accent standing right beside, I mean right beside me, asking me how far I’d gone. As I tried to mumble a frozen-jaw response I also tried to make my way quickly to my box to start getting changed as soon as possible.

41 minutes at six degrees Celsius is the furthest I’ve gone. I knew what was coming with the Afterdrop. It would tough. I needed to optimise getting dressed as soon as possible.

As I got changed, with some difficulty, trying to get covered as my core temperature was dropping due to the inward flow of cold blood, conversation continued about cold water swimming as I struggled to answer and make sense, not easy when in this state.

I was in that hazy post cold swim state of mild hypothermia, where I’m pretty certain that I am functioning fully and that I can remember everything clearly, but later realise it’s not necessarily the case.

Later I wonder to myself. 41 minutes at 41 minutes at six degrees Celsius doesn’t seem like that much to me. I know, as I always do, that I could have gone further, why didn’t I swim for a nice round 45 minutes? But I realise that in these circumstances, when I am by myself, I let my body and a sub-conscious experience decide my swim times. With doing 41 minutes in 6° Celsius, I now, finally, have no doubt that should we get a 5° degree temperature this winter, the ice-mile is well within my capability. But for now, I can’t actually prove that officially.

Swimming, like everything else, is governed by entropy, which always increases, therefore order (or you could term it information in certain circumstances) is always reducing. Entropy is a measure of disorder. Eventually the dead hand of the Second Law will hold sway over all, as scientist and author Stephen Baxter once wrote, it’s the ultimate scientific explanation of the universe’s evolution, which is governed by the Second Law of Thermodynamics. In a closed system, entropy increases, and the universe is a closed system. Within the smaller system of the earth, the human body is a closed system. It loses heat unless energy is input back into the system to offset loss. As cold water swimmers, we understand experientially the Second Law better than most. Hypothermia will always get you, regardless of experience. If the water temperature is below normal core temperature, no matter how high otherwise, it just will take a longer time. Because of the Second Law of Thermodynamics we get cold. So we need heat and food, two forms of energy, since mass and energy are the same thing. The Second Law of Thermodynamics is always there, always swimming with you, always waiting for you.

I have a deep integral sense of the numinous wonder of the world and the universe, that for me, expresses itself most deeply and is felt most strongly in open water swimming, in immersing myself in the green waters. The world is extraordinary, the sea is transforming, my friends are a value beyond price.  But that’s just my own world view.

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Explaining a critical open water swimming factor: Tidal Range

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Recently I wrote about how I consider safe entry and exit points and possibility of swimming at all tide times to be a critical requirement of a good open water swim location.

Kids growing tend to think the whole world is the same as their local experience. Though I didn’t live by the coast growing up, it never occurred to me that the seashore was different in other places. In Ireland, if you were visiting a new beach, you knew you had to be careful of incoming tides and of not being cut off. The first time I visited the Mediterranean I was really surprised by how little the tide seemed to move. So even now I tend to forget that tidal access and depth is not an issue in many places in the world. But it’s far safer for someone who comes from a high tidal range location to travel to a low range area than the opposite.

Many people now know the Bay of Fundy in Canada has the world’s highest tide, due to estuarine forcing (pushing more water into a smaller space), with a height of up to 15 metres and the lowest tidal regions are called amphidromes, with no height change.

Tidal range is the height difference between low tide and high tide. The tidal range in Ireland averages six metres. This is called a Macromareal tide, a tidal range above four metres. The average open ocean tidal range is only just over half a metre. And the Mediterranean is micromareal, less than two metres range. In between, from two to four metres range is mesomareal.

Why this is the case I explained a long time ago in Tides for Swimmers, Part One and Part Two.

In the English Channel the range about seven metres. Even average is misleading. During a low neap tide, the range in Ireland can be as little as four metres. During a high it can be as much as seven metres. In Ireland on a neap tide the low will not drop to as low as the open water mean of 0 metres, but might only drop to 1.3 metres, and will only go up to over just over 4 metres, whereas during a spring tide, the range may be from 0.0 metres to over during the spring spring and autumnal spring tides. Spring spring is not a mistake, it the spring tides that occur during spring.

Today in fact is a neap tide, and in Tramore the neap tide is 0.5 metres and the high tide is 4.2 metres.

There are a few serious safety implications of this.

  • Will you have a planned known safe exit if the water is going to be a different height to when you start swimming?
  • What will be the effect of the tidal current where you are swimming? The greater the tidal range, the greater the tidal current.
  • What different challenges will come into play on your planned route at different tide times? Will dangerous reefs appear? Will swim landmarks disappear?

What happens if you show up in a new country and have no idea of the tidal range and want to swim? Well as always, first check with locals before you swim.

But how do you recognise a high tidal range? The simple answer is to look for the high tide line.

On a beach that will be a line of debris, twigs, leaves, kelp or rubbish or even a change in the sand quality.

Don’t assume that a high tide line won’t happen the day you are swimming. Was the moon full or dark the previous night? If either, it’s a spring tide. A half-moon is a neap tide.

If there’s no beach, rocks are even better indicator. The difference between the low and high tide point is called the intertidal zone.

Français : Verrucaria maura, Kergulan, Goulien...
Around Ireland and elsewhere, rocks that close to the high tide mark will get covered in a salt resistant lichen, Verrucaria maura, making the rocks black.
Verrucaria maura doesn’t start at the low tide mark by the way, it generally starts at about the mean high tide point, HWA.

The rocks beneath the low tide point will retain their original colour, the rocks above the high tide line will often be yellow or orange with less salt resistant lichens such as Xanthoria parietina or Caloplaca marina, all of which are visible in my Copper Coast Swims. Of course sometimes the rocks are dark anyway, but high tide lines are easy to see. Here are the rocks on the far side of the Guillamene Cove at about mid tide.

It is still difficult to appreciate just what that range can mean. So … some more photos I’ve taken.

Here’s the Guillamene from the cliff top road. At low NEAP tide, all the steps are exposed. At low SPRING tide, there’s a ladder below the steps which is exposed to about 4 or 5 steps. Look at the colour range of the rocks. At the lowest point and up they are a sandy limestone colour (and covered in barnacles) and get blacker as they get higher. On a high spring tide, without any wind, the water reaches to just under the front triangular platform. Just above that line the rocks are completely black from the lichen.

Newtown Cove at high neap tide.

And at about mid tide.

And low tide. From this vantage point it might not look like much. But if you look at the full size image, you can see that there is a ladder exposed on low tide.

Considering hazards, this photo below of the west end of Kilfarassey gives an indication. With the tide only about one metre below high in this image, various reefs are starting to appear. Almost all are covered at high tide, some of them only centimetres below the mean high water surface on a calm day.

A 6 metre tidal range (almost 20 feet) is the height of a house, three times the height of a tall person. It’s very very significant.

 

So be safe, and take note of the conditions, tide and tide range and plan accordingly.

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Just one Irish winter’s day weather forecast

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Extremely windy or stormy in places today especially early this morning with gale force southwest to west winds and severe gusts of 100 to 140km/hr at times—– strongest in exposed parts of the north and northwest early today. Heavy rain in eastern and southern areas will clear before dawn and the day will be bright with sunny spells, occasional heavy rain and hail showers especially in western and northern areas with a risk of thunder and some hill snow possible in the north. Cold by afternoon with afternoon temperatures of 3 to 7 degrees.

So that’s windy and calm, wet and dry, cloudy and sunny. Rain, sun, hail and maybe even snow. All in one day, in a small country, January the 3rd, 2012. Wind gusts actually hit 169 kph at Malin Head.

A 2011 open water swimming retrospective

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Everyone does it, don’t they?

I couldn’t decide what to write about, so as usual in these circumstances, I went to the sea, and figured it out. Here it is:

I swam in places old and new.

I swam with friends and I made new swimming friends, (some of whom I’ve yet to meet and swim with). 

Result? A very successful open water swimming year. Right there is everything I know about open water swimming, condensed.

Thanks to you all for your interest, views, engagement, comments, pictures, arguments, insults, threats, posts, tweets and links this year, most of all thanks to all my friends, and best wishes to everyone for a swimming new year.

I hope to meet you all in the water in 2012!

Athbhliain faoi mhaise daoibh.

Loneswimmer, Edge of Europe, Edge of the Atlantic, signing off for 2011.

Introducing a precise open water swimming temperature scale

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Next year’s Cork Distance Week will have a record number of attendees, many from outside Ireland. Some will be coming nervous or terrified about the potential temperatures especially if they heard any of 2011′s details.

They need a scale of reference for that fear and we need a common terminology!

Steve Munatones on Daily News of Open Water Swimming had a great post recently on the temperatures at which people consider water cold.

I hope he won’t mind me showing the poll results here:

I remember Finbarr once saying to me that; “10ºC is the point at which you can start to do some proper distance”.

{Fin, I need either a blog or picture from you for the constant references. Either one of you in your UCC Pirate Polo Speedos or one of you swimming directly over some poor unsuspecting swimmer going round a buoy would be the most appropriate.}

I hope Jack Bright might have some input into this also. :-)

I think it would be fair to say that many, if not most (but not all), of the (serious) Irish and British swimmers would fall into the 7% category, it’s getting cold under 10° C.

So here’s my purely personal swimmer’s temperature scale:

Over 18°C (65°F): This temperature is entirely theoretical and only happens on TV and in the movies. The only conclusion I can come to about the 32% who said this is cold are that they are someone’s imaginary friends. Or foetuses.

16°C to 18°C (61 to 64°F): This is paradise. This is the temperature range at which Irish and British swimmers bring soap into the sea. The most common exclamation heard at this stage is “it’s a bath”!!! Sunburn is common. Swimmers float on their backs and laugh and play gaily like children. They wear shorts and t-shirts after finally emerging. They actually feel a bit guilty about swimming in such warm water. Exposures times are above 40 hours.

14°C to 16°C (57° to 61°F): Aaahhh, summer. All is well with the world, the sea and the swimmers. Exposure times are at least 20 to 40 hours. Sandycove Swimmers will swim 6 hour to 16 hour qualification swims, some just for the hell of it and because others are doing it. Lisa Cummins will see no need to get out of the water at all and will just sleep while floating, to get a head start on the next day’s training.

13°C (55° to 56°F): Grand. You can do a 6 hour swim, and have a bit of fun. Daily long distance training is fine. Barbecues in Sandycove. The first Irish teenagers start to appear.

12°C (53/54°F): Well manageable. You can still do a 6 hour swim, it’ll hurt but it’s possible. Otherwise it’s fine for regular 2 to 4 hour swims. This the temperature of the North Channel.

11°C (51/52°F): Ah well (with a shrug). Distance training is well underway. Ned, Rob, Ciarán, Danny C., Imelda, Eddie, Jen & myself, at least, have all recorded 6 hour qualification swims at this temperature. Lisa did 9 hours at this temperature. Swimmers chuckle and murmur quietly amongst themselves when they hear tourists running screaming in agony from the water, throwing children out of the way… 

10°C (50°F): Usually known as “It’s Still Ok”. The key temperature. This is the one hour point, where one hour swims become a regular event. We start wearing hats after swims.

9°C (48/49°F): “A Bit Nippy”. No point trying to do more than an hour, it can be done, but you won’t gain much from it unless you are contemplating the Mouth of Hell swim. Christmas Day swim range. Someone might remember to bring a flask of tea. No milk for me, thanks.

8°C (46/48°F): The precise technical term is ”Chilly”. Sub one-hour swims. Weather plays a huge role. Gloves after swims. Sandycove Swimmers scoff at the notion they might be hypothermic.

7°C (44/45°F): ”Cold”. Yes, it exists. It’s here. The front door to Cold-Town is 7.9°C.

6°C (42/43°F): “Damn, that hurts”. You baby.

5°C (40/41°F): “Holy F*ck!” That’s a technical term. Swimmers like to remind people this is the same temperature as the inside of a cold domestic fridge. Don’t worry if you can’t remember actually swimming, getting out of the water or trying to talk. Memory loss is a fun game for all the family.

Under 5°C (Under 40 °F). This is only for bragging rights.There are no adequate words for this. In fact speech is impossible.  It’s completely acceptable to measure exposure times in multiples of half minutes and temperatures in one-tenths of a degree. This is hard-core.  When you’ve done this, you can tell others to “Bite me, (’cause I won’t feel it)”. (4.8°C is mine). Carl Reynolds starts to get a bit nervous. Lisa tries to remember her suntan lotion.

Ned Denison during the winter

2.5°C  to 5°C. South London Swimming Club and British Cold Water Swimming Championships live here. If you are enjoying this, please seek immediate psychological help. Lisa might zip up her hoodie.

1.5°C to 2.5°C: Lynn Coxian temperatures. You are officially a loon.

0°C to 1.5°C: Aka ”Lewis Pughian” temperatures. Long duration nerve damage, probably death for the rest of us. Lisa** considers putting on shoes instead of sandals. But probably she won’t.

*Grand is a purely Irish use that ranges from; “don’t mind me, I’ll be over here slowly bleeding to death, don’t put yourself out … Son“, to “ok” and “the best“, indicated entirely by context and tone.

** Lisa Cummins, for the win.

Looking forward to your opinions.

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The local neighbourhood -The Irish & Celtic seas and the Western Approaches – Dangerous Seas

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  • The Celtic Sea is that section of the Atlantic off the south Irish Coast.
  • The Irish Sea is the sea between Ireland and the UK.
  • The Western Approaches is the large rectangular stretch of water south and west of Ireland and the UK, i.e. the Atlantic Isles, including these two seas.
The term Western Approaches arose in the First World War and became better known in WWII as it was the Royal Navy’s designation for the area of intense sea-borne battles and loss particularly in the Merchant Navy.
From a modern point the term is not used much anymore but familiar to those who “go down to the sea in ships”.
The Irish Sea is defined by the IHO as On the North. The Southern limit of the Scottish Seas  defined as “a line joining the South extreme of the Mull of Galloway (54°38′N) in Scotland and Ballyquintin Point (54°20′N) in Ireland“. On the South. A line joining St. David’s Head (51°54′N 5°19′W) to Carnsore Point (52°10′N 6°22′W).
The western boundaries of the  Celtic Sea are delimited by the edge of the Continental Shelf.
The Irish Sea is cold, swarms with stinging Lion’s Mane and Portuguese Mar O’ War jellies AND the east coast of Ireland is rife with very strong sea currents, particularly up through St. George’s Channel around the South-east “corner” near where I am, but luckily starting further east, and also with an amphidrome near the Isle of Man, and with high traffic as there is no land bridge between Ireland and the UK.
The Atlantic Isles rest on the European continental shelf, and the waters around are not very deep only going to about a hundred and fifty metres.
However these seas are notoriously dangerous for sea-craft (the list is far longer than that), as we were reminded only last week when a ship went down of the south-west of Wales and fishing which is a particularly dangerous occupation is especially dangerous of the South Irish Coast,
In 2007 two trawlers, Honeydew II and Pere Charles were lost with seven hands within hours of each other, (and Damien Tiernan’s book on the tragedy, Souls of the Sea is a great, educational but bleak read).

A murmuration of starlings, a murder of crows

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The first is a fantastic video of a murmuration of starlings. Since it’s in Ireland and on a river/lake, (Shannon), I feel justified in linking.

Now to follow that, I thought I’d share my video I took last Saturday.

For about eight months of the year, from autumn to spring, this spectacle of a Murder of Crows unfolds itself twice daily around Loneswimmer Towers, after dawn and around twilight. Sometimes it’s a few hundred metres further up or down the river, sometimes it seems centred on the demesne. In fact, I’d never taken any video of it before, and it really demands a tripod, an HD camera and a better camera-person. I’ve never been able to estimate numbers, but it surely regularly goes over 5,000 various Corvidae; crows, hooded crows, jackdaws and maybe magpies, it’s impossible to tell. It was getting dark, dark clouds over the hills, but the sound is clear and every so often you get a good impression of the size of the Murder.

Lethal is good. So is deadly. A little bit of Irish slang.

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Rapid, massive and savage are also all very good, as are dingin’, crackin’ and the dog’s bollix but cat and manky are pretty bad. Grand is the gold standard for good though sometimes it’s only barely acceptable. A cute hoor is someone of whom to be wide of but a sound man is yer only man while a tool and a chancer are definitely not reliable chaps. Langer takes practice and time spent gallavantin’ in The People Republic Of Cork to use properly but you can get langers or polluted in the pub while you are doing that and next morning you will probably be thrun down, as is likely to happen me at this weekend’s Irish Channel Party.

I will, ya is the Irish double-positive refusal which the Oxford English Dictionary doesn’t think exists, as I will in me hole is also not a polite way of saying no. If you are just after your dinner, you are probably not hungry, especially if you are a back arse of beyond Tipperary stonethrowin’ bogger like Your’s Truly and have had a hape of hang sandwedges. Craic is the best drug in the world and can be harvested directly from Irish people who’ve had a few scoops. The craic is ninety, but the ride is a pound.

The sea around Ireland gets a bit nippy in the winter and has been known to be a bit lumpy in Force Six winds when you might get a figary to go for a swim especially is there is aer a sign of one of your friends going with you though other more sensible people will think you are not the full shillin’ even though a good sea swim is hard to bate.

I’ve been doin’ a line with the future Mrs. Loneswimmer for a while now, she is actually one of the aul enemy but a class bird nonetheless. I’ll probably get a clatter for that. Stall the ball. I’m a bit of a hames myself, like.

Now we’re suckin’ diesel. You can chalk that down.

Kevin Williams recommends this should obligatory study for all those coming for next year’s Cork Distance Camp. :-)

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In order of appearance:

Lethal, Deadly, Rapid, Massive, Savage Dingin’, Crackin’ ,The dog’s bollix all mean good but lethal can also mean dangerous. 

Cat means bad while manky is smelly and dirty. 

Grand means good though sometimes it only means alright.

A cute hoor is sneaky, opportunistic or untrustworthy. Often politicians.

Being wide of means being careful of.

A sound man is yer only man is a good reliable chap. 

A tool and a chancer are respectively an idiot and an opportunist .

Langer could have multiple paragraphs written about it, but in the singular means male genitalia and a straightforward insult. You’d have to know a person well to be able to use it in a non-insulting manner.

Galavantin’  means roaming around in search of something happening.

The People Republic Of Cork needs no explanation.

Langers or polluted mean inebriated.

Thrun down is being very much the worse for being so inebriated.

I will, ya, mean No I won’t as does I will in me hole.

Just after your dinner means you have just had your dinner

Back arse of beyond, rural out-of-the-way location

Tipperary, a county

A Stonethrower is a Tipperary person

A bogger is anyone rural, i.e. from outside Dublin (or Cork).

A hape of hang sandwedges is a lot ham sandwiches, reportedly the favourite food of Tipperary people, especially before and after Gaelic Athletic Association events, best served at the side of a road.

Craic is fun.

Scoops are alcoholic drinks.

The craic is ninety, but the ride is a pound. I’ve never been able to figure out how  to accurately explain this or even when to use it.

A bit nippy  is very cold.

A bit lumpy is very rough water.

A figary is a casual notion

Aer a sign means any.

Not the full shillin’ means mentally deficient.

Hard to bate means very good.

Doin’ a line mean a steady relationship.

The aul enemy are English people.

A Clatter is a wallop.

Stall the ball means to wait a moment.

A bit of a hames is a mess.

Like is how Irish people end sentences.

Now we’re suckin’ diesel is a positive affirmation.

You can chalk that down. Make note of that.

(I just really confused the spell-checker.)