The Greenway Moral Code

Two years ago, a disused railway line in Waterford, South-East Ireland, came to life. With much fanfare, it was launched as the Waterford Greenway, a walking and cycling route that followed the route of the old railway line. The Greenway would take people through lush green countryside, under tunnels and bridges and small, pretty towns.

A Source of Passion

People took to the Greenway straight away. Since it was launched, hordes of people have walked and cycled along its paths. Much praise has been heaped upon it, for its undulating pathways, the soothing views, the ease of access. The Greenway gives people a chance to do many of the things that make us happy as humans: being in nature, exercise, a chance to do a an enjoyable activity with family and friends.

Waterford Greenway
Waterford Greenway: a beautiful route that is the subject of much debate.

But what I’ve also noticed when the topic of the Greenway comes up is how passionate people are about the correct way to use it. People fulminate about the cyclists who whiz along the route as if it were a stage in the Tour de France. They rage against the people who drop litter on the paths, or let their dogs roam free. One woman i know talks incessantly about cyclists who don’t ring their bells when they’re approaching pedestrians.

Walking on the Wrong Side

What’s more, people are not shy about letting these transgressors know that they are flouting the conventions of the Greenway, which are printed on signs dotted along the route. I know, because I was one of those transgressors. Yes, I confess that am a sinner.

I have been on the Greenway twice, once with my husband, once with family. On both occasions, we walked on the right-hand side of the path. The signs recommend walking on the left, but we felt that this would prevent us from spotting cyclists coming up noisily from behind. On a normal road, it is correct to walk on the right-hand side. And some would say it is correct to walk on the right-hand side of God.

On both occasions, passersby told us we should be walking on the left. One group was polite; the other was more forceful. And on both occasions, my hackles rose. Why were they taking it upon themselves to tell us which way to walk. After all, we weren’t blocking their route.

Why People Are Fierce About the Greenway

There are many other amenities in Co. Waterford which offer just as much richness of experience, but none of these inspire such strong devotion as the Greenway. Why do people have such a fiercely protective attitude to the Greenway? One reason that springs to mind is space. The Greenway has been successful beyond people’s wildest dreams and that means more people are sharing that space than anyone ever imagined. And people can be very territorial about the space they occupy.

A book I’ve been reading lately has revealed another possible reason for this fervour. In his book Mere Christianity, CS Lewis talks about a universal moral code that humans instinctively understand and know they must follow. The use of the Greenway feeds into people’s sense of right and wrong. There are no rangers on the route to enforce the conventions, as there would be in other countries. But people are regulating the Greenway themselves, because they believe it is vital to follow rules that will help preserve a resource they see as unique.

A Conflict of Codes

CS Lewis also helped me to understand my own strong reaction to the passersby who told us to walk on the left. The Greenway’s moral code is in conflict with my own moral code. I believe it is wrong to tell other people how to behave, or to judge how other people conduct themselves. And I believe people deserve the freedom to figure out for themselves what is right and wrong. The passersby felt I was flouting the Greenway moral code, and I felt their interference was unnecessary. I believe I would probably have come to my own conclusion about the right way to walk, just from watching how others used it.

But CS Lewis’s book has given me food for thought. Some things are bigger than we are, and I do want to continue enjoying the Greenway and its delights. So I’ve come up with a compromise. When I next go on the Greenway, I will walk on the left. But if I see anyone else walking on the right, I won’t tell them off.

 

Small Wonders of Bantry

This week, I was gallivanting again, to Bantry, in a corner of Ireland where fingers of rock point to the sea. I could wax lyrical about the beauties of Bantry and the West Cork countryside surrounding it, or about the brilliance of the authors who at the literary festival we were attending. But as I did with Sneem and with Iceland earlier in the year, I prefer to concentrate on the little random wonders that often remain unseen.

Here’s a selection of ten small, sparkling moments from my stay in Bantry.

Eloquent rants about montbretia, those flame flowers.

The ship’s sail that cried, ‘Enough.’

The mountain filled with light and rain.

Mountain of Light and Rain
A mountain of light and rain in West Cork.

The man who let his Viking-style boat rot on a beach for seven years because he went to South America and nearly got married.

A cup of tea at the edge of the world.

The author who bathed us in warmth, humour and perfectly crafted words.

The author who drove the men away.

The barman who had never heard of Pernod.

The cable car with a psalm tacked onto the wall.

And the family who flung open the doors of their eighteenth-century farmhouse and fed us with fresh leaves, morsels of culture and tales of the Levant.

 

 

Small Wonders of Sneem

Apologies for the lack of bloggage last weekend. I’m sure you all felt the blog’s absence keenly. It’s because I was gallivanting again, though this time within the borders of my own country. Our hillwalking club descended en masse to Sneem in Co. Kerry, in the south-west corner of Ireland.

Kerry is one of the most popular tourist spots in Ireland, and it’s hard to describe its beauty without resorting to cliché. Majestic. Spectacular, Scenic. So as with my Iceland post a couple of weeks ago, I’ve decided to concentrate on Kerry’s little quirks, and the county is full of them.

Here’s a flavour of some of the gloriously random things I encountered on my travels

A sign warning walkers about stray golf balls, describing them as dangerous projectiles

A bridge with a dizzying view of water hurtling beneath a grille

Water Under Bridge
A dizzying view of water under a bridge. Photo taken by moi.

A pub with a fictional menu and lasagne the texture of biscuit

A Dalmatian perched on a street sign

A very concise German charity shop owner – when asked if she had lived in Sneem long, she simply answered, ‘Yes.’

Raspberry sorbet ice cream, eaten on a bench by the river

A red setter stretched out on the steps of the hotel, basking in the sun

A garden filled with pyramids designed to mimic the wattle and daub dwellings of our ancestors

A phantom slice of apple pie

And one man and his goat

Man With Goat
Man brings his goat into the village of Sneem.

Small Wonders of Iceland

This week, I ticked an item on my bucket list and went to Iceland. I could tell you about the cascading waterfalls, the black sand beaches, hot springs bubbling from the earth. It’s what we think of when we think of Iceland. And all of these things are indeed awesome, in the truest sense of the word.

But I can’t say anything about these wonders that hasn’t already been said. When you’re a tourist, you’re funnelled towards the big game: the natural wonders, the ancient buildings, the epic landscapes. So instead, I look for the little moments that make a trip sparkle. The quirky objects you stumble upon at street corners. The random conversations. The strange but delicious food. The characters on the bus.

Here’s a word collage of my top ten small but perfectly formed Icelandic moments.

Two polar bears standing guard outside a shop

Carp flashing golden in a pond

A tour guide with flaming red hair who did a scarily accurate impression of a Viking having his guts ripped out

Drinking water that smelt of eggs, but tasted pure as air

An exhausting, but enjoyable search for puffins

A group of farmers entranced by fields full of fodder, but empty of sheep

A museum that blasted punk music from a cellar

Splashes of wall art filled with swirling patterns, fantastical creatures and electric colour schemes

Slices of morning herring, picked to enhance the delicate flavour

A band with no musical instruments

Quirky Iceland Picture
Iceland is filled with small, quirky marvels. Photo taken by moi.

 

I’m not the most adventurous of travellers. You won’t find me dangling off a cliff or Airbnbing in a yurt. But I don’t think I need you need to go on mad adventures to make your trip unique. I just look out for small details that turn into lasting memories.