Let us now praise little Hen

The Western Mournes. The lower Mournes. The lesser Mournes. Or simply ‘birdland’, because of the names of the hills which make up their core – Eagle, Pigeon, Cock … and Hen. They are separated by a road and a dam from their brethren in ‘the high Mournes’, and they are indeed the lower part of the range, with even Eagle well below the 700 metre mark at 632. They may lack the drama of the high Mournes, but they have their charms. They have Eagle’s cliffs and pinnacles, and they have Hen, the littlest mountain of them all.

We were out there on Saturday, led by Frank, taking a relaxed route from the Deer Meadow by Spelga Dam, up Pigeon, across the bog to Cock with it’s two summits, and along the ridge to Slievenamiskan. Nothing much to mention about all that, except that it was good walking and we found an excellent natural amphitheatre for lunch on Cock, looking down on the Spelga Dam and over to Carn, Doan, Lamagan and the rest of the high Mournes. And after Slievenamiskan a tricky descent and over to Hen.

Hen – what an inglorious, humble name. An innocent little creature, clucking around, no harm to anyone. And Hen is a humble mountain by any numerical measure. At only 354 metres above sea level at its highest point it is lower than the Cave Hill, Black Mountain, or Divis above Belfast.

But there is more to mountain – and hills – than metres. Hen has character. It may be small but it is one of the most interesting and attractive hills in the Mournes. It is a steep and surprisingly tough little climb from the Rocky River Valley below, but its real secret is its complex rolling rocky summit.

I know nothing about geology, but Hen seems to be different from the rest of the Mournes. Most of the Mourne summits are rounded and largely featureless. Bearnagh and Binnian have rocky tors, but they are rough ragged stone poking out through broken earth. Hen has layers which seem to be have been poured, spread out over three – or is it four? - separate summits, in a complex geography which is fascinating to explore.

There is good rock climbing – there were people out with ropes and helmets while we were here. There are gullies and good scrambling, handholds and footholds for those who want to try them, and easier routes for those who don’t. And great layers of rock to gaze out from. We had a very pleasant second lunch spread out on a rock platform, looking down on the farms below and away off over County Down.

There is more to mountains than names or height – Hen is a little joy.



Books of 2010

It’s World Book Day, so as my contribution here is a list of my favourite reading from 2010. Six books, dividing neatly into three pairs:

Two for the Tudors.

I started and finished the year reading books set in Henry VIII's reign, Hilary Mantel's wonderful 'Wolf Hall' and CJ Samson's 'Heartstone'. They both show a strange and frightening world, where politics and religion could be deadly and life was dangerous enough without either. Wolf Hall has rightly won numerous awards. Mantel’s Thomas Cromwell is a brilliant and believable portrait of a remarkable man from an era which is less familiar to us than too much shallow TV and film may make it seem. One of the best pieces of literary news of the year is that Mantel is working on a sequel. Hearthstone is the latest in an outstanding historical detective series, and again there will surely be more to enjoy.

Two for 'Nam.

Karl Marlantes ‘Matterhorn’, is a grim but absorbing account of US Marines fighting endless and useless battles in the hill country of Vietnam. It says little about the Vietnamese or the course of the war, but as an account of the soldier's experiences it is powerful. Near the end there is a song, a lament, which goes something like 'if it's good enough for Shortround it's good enough for me...'; I suspect you will hear it when the inevitable movie comes out.

For more on the origins and consequences of one of the most misguided wars in human history, and a fuller portrayal of some of the participants, turn to 'A Bright Shining Lie' by Neil Sheehan. It tells the story of the war mainly through the life of John Paul Vann, an American officer whose memorable phrase, the title of the book, could describe his own life as much as the war he fought. As in Matterhorn there is courage, but it is the political, military, and even personal folly which will stay in your mind. It would be good not to have a sequel to this one, but that might be overly optimistic.

Two for fantasy.

Tom Power's 'Declare' is a genre bender. It is a spy story, and parts of it could be straight out of Le Carre or Alan Furst. Other parts - the bits with the rebel angels for example - move a little bit outside that tradition. Powers weaves a fantastical web around the already complex story of British traitor Kim Philby, and the remarkable think is that he largely gets away with it. An entertaining piece of story telling, if you can tolerate the far out aspects. And a highly original explanation of the fall of the Soviet empire, not currently widely accepted in academic circles. But Power’s even provides sources; I suspect some intelligence services will have quietly checked them out, just in case.

Which brings me to China Mieville’s ‘The City and The City’. Several years ago I picked up a copy of his ‘Perido Station’. Nice title, nice cover, shame about the book. I found the grotesque creatures which inhabited it pointless, just an exercise in grunge, and chucked it after a couple of chapters. So when I saw ‘The City and The City’ picking up SF awards I was sceptical. But I bought it. And it’s wonderful.

Again it’s something of a genre bender. Basically it is a noir detective story, featuring Inspector Borlu of the Extreme Crime Squad of Beszel. But Beszel is an eastern Mediterranean city which shares its space with another city, Ul Quoma. The two cities are divided in places by walls and border posts but mainly by the refusal of their inhabitants to see or acknowledge each other even as they share the same streets and spaces. Their refusal is strictly policed by a shadowy organisation known as ‘Breach’. ‘Breach’ opens up a little, but never completely, during the book; the detective story reaches a conclusion but one that leaves more questions than answers.

It’s ‘Casablanca’ meets ‘Blade Runner’ meets ‘Funeral in Berlin’. Mieville’s storytelling keeps the plot moving strongly, and the details are great – I loved the Inspector’s CD of Van Morrison’s Beszel concert; I think I have that somewhere. ‘The City and The City’ is outstanding, highly original, and very enjoyable. For me undoubtedly the book of the year.

Vietnam photobook now available

Vietnam, Old and New by Steve McBride

Make Your Own Book

The Phone and the Sword

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-12522848
Gene Sharp: Author of the nonviolent revolution rulebook

The BBC feature about Gene Sharp brings back a lot of memories. Back in the days of the Peace People I read a lot about non-violence, and Gene Sharp’s three volume ‘The Politics of Nonviolent Action’ was the bible of non-violence. In time I came to conclude that non-violence wasn’t a universal answer and that there were situations were it just couldn’t work. But I remained, and remain, convinced that it is a powerful and important force, and that its neglect in the universities and libraries of political science is extraordinary.

What I am now starting to think is that that a large part of the impact of the modern media revolution – or the impact of modern media on revolution - is that Facebook, Twitter and so on are providing the missing link which makes non-violence effective in a lot more places than it once might have been.

The two great success stories of 20th century non-violence are the campaigns of Gandhi and Martin Luther King. Their approach saw non-violence as a force, one which turned the violence of the oppressor against itself, weakening the oppressor rather than strengthening him. The non-violent protestor was a soldier, and calmly took a soldier’s risks. He or she just didn’t shoot back, and their example and their refusal to meet violence with violence undermined and discredited those who relied on violence. And that worked very powerfully, in India and in the southern states of the US.

But in both cases there were particular features which made the technique more effective. There was an apparatus of law, which the oppressor relied on to give legitimacy to his rule but which could be used against him. There was huge disparity between the professed ideal of the state and the reality. There were wider institutions and constitutions, in London and Washington, which could be exposed and embarrassed. And there was a reasonably free press which was willing to expose the hypocrisy and violence behind the rhetoric.

The absence of law, ideals, and an effective press made non-violence less effective against, for example, the Nazis, or indeed in the face of the religious and ethnic violence to which India succumbed on achieving independence.

Now we have more or less non-violent revolutions, organised, recorded, and promoted largely over laptops and mobile phones. No running of guns, no planting of bombs, no plotting of coup d’états, no leaders even, just people claiming the streets and public spaces of their cities – and telling others all about it through the mobile media. That mobile media is in effect providing the wider context of ideals and publicity which make nonviolence so powerful, and is doing it even in states and societies were there is little pretence of democracy, constitutional ideals, or a free press.

At least for now, the phone is proving to be mightier than the sword.

River Days (B+W)

See and download the full gallery on posterous

'This Day All Gods Die'

The title of one of Stephen Donaldson's sci-fi fantasies came into my mind as I watched the almost farcical collapse of the government in Dublin. It looks very much as though we are watching the near total eclipse of the two parties which have dominated Irish politics for most of the last century. In the south Fianna Fail face not just ejection from government, a temporary inconvenience they have occasionally had to put up with before now, but near annihilation.

And this is not a cyclical thing; recovery is not certain. As we can see in the north, where there is no sign of recovery for the Ulster Unionists. They have been dominant in their patch even longer than FF (largest party in every election in the 20th century is a record which most of the world's dictatorships could only gaze at in awe), but they will be struggling to preserve even their already sadly reduced circumstances in the Assembly elections in May.

We live in interesting time, and it would be nice to think that the downfall of these two old parties, which between them at the height of their powers summed up pretty much everything that was wrong with Ireland, actually represented a real change. But unfortunately there is little enough sign of that.

I did use the word 'farcical' earlier, and it is hard to avoid a reference to history repeating itself, first as tragedy, then as farce. Tragedy isn't the word that you would use about the 'GUBU' days, unless you are referring to the unfortunate murder victims, but Charlie Haughey was a dark, saturnine figure, a dramatic figure, a character from Don Giovanni or Tosca. It would be a real irony if the party which outlived Charlie should finally be laid low by Brian Cowan.

Icebreaker

It’s 7.30, its Saturday morning, there’s frost to clear off the car – why did I ever say I would lead this walk?

And the same in spades a little later, for the roads around Carryduff and Ballynahinch are grim – frozen, snow covered, treacherous. I would be thinking about heading back if it wasn’t me organising the day. Seemed a good idea in October, drawing up the programme in a warm, comfortable hall; doesn’t seem quite so good after a night of freezing snow in the depth of a bitter winter.

I get to Carrick Little anyway, somewhat hoping that no one will turn up, but Carrie and Marie are already there, and incredibly within ten minutes we are 17 strong – the Spartans are out in force.

The carpark is like an ice ring, and the lane is worse – there has been a lot of water running down it which has frozen hard. This is supposed to be the walk in, the easy bit, but it’s like trying to walk up a ski slope. It actually gets better when we get over the gate at the end of the lane and start up the wall to Binnian. The ground, which is usually soft and slippery, is frozen and firm, and snow, of which there is more and more, is firm and crunchy. Its hard enough work getting through it, but there is at least some grip. And there are superb views up the Annalong Valley to Donard and Commedagh. This is a view which could be in the Rockies, and it’s an hours drive from Belfast.

Futher up there are extraordinary ice formations on the wall, where water must have frozen while being lashed by the wind. There are real little whirlwinds - snow devils - swirling madly and then spreading out. They are strong enough to knock you down, as several of us find out. The snow must be close to two foot deep where has built up by the wall.

With the conditions underfoot, the dark looming clouds, and the prospect of a difficult descent we decide to just go for the higher South Tor and leave the ridge and the Northern Tor for another day. We get there, and have a - very - quick lunch on the top, with the visibility falling and the temperature falling faster. It’s eerie and strange; drained of colour. The snow and ice on the ground is rippled and shaped, almost like ice grass.

Coming down is a challenge; there are a few slips and slithers but no major mishaps. Not long after 4 we are warming up in the Harbour Bar in Newcastle. There are days when it would be easy to stay warm at home, but when you are so glad at the end of it that you hadn’t let the weather put you off; this was one. An icebreaker of a day.