Gerry
12-17-2007, 06:18 PM
Hard to believe it but it's true. I went for my walk one day up the hill in front of my home and decided to stretch myself further going over the first hill and climbing the second hill behind it up to Grainne's Gap. It's twice the distance and straight up and down.
As I was nearing the summit the sound of the water falling downhill in the roadside shuck gets quieter and quieter as the flow decreases.
Reaching the crest I have an awesome view of the two loughs ambling to the wild Atlantic as they are penetrated by Inishowen Pennisula. I stopped to get a breath and sat quietly on the ditch soaking up the vista that was before me and thanking God for giving me this.
Then I had a fright as "God" spoke back to me. As I got my heart out of my throat I realised that "God" was a fellow walker on the hillside. He had been sitting blending into the hillside in silence observing all around when I had intruded on his space.
We started to speak and it dawned on me that my fellow walker was totally blind. There were no pupils in his white eyes to take in all that surrounded him. We spoke for a while and he started to ask me questions about the distance from the sea as he could smell it. All I could smell was sheep ****.
Then he froze. Finger to his lips. "There she is" he said and pointed skywards. I looked up but nothing could I see. Close your eyes he said. As I sat is the silence of a westerly breeze I started to hear the bird cry. Very faint. Very distinctive. I dared to open my eyes and sure enough about 200 yards away the distinctive sweep of the eagles wings majesticly passed low over the heather. We were above the tree line with no perch for her to use. She dropped into the purple sea and didn't rise again.
What a lesson. There are none so blind as he who will not see.
By Gerry Temple
As I was nearing the summit the sound of the water falling downhill in the roadside shuck gets quieter and quieter as the flow decreases.
Reaching the crest I have an awesome view of the two loughs ambling to the wild Atlantic as they are penetrated by Inishowen Pennisula. I stopped to get a breath and sat quietly on the ditch soaking up the vista that was before me and thanking God for giving me this.
Then I had a fright as "God" spoke back to me. As I got my heart out of my throat I realised that "God" was a fellow walker on the hillside. He had been sitting blending into the hillside in silence observing all around when I had intruded on his space.
We started to speak and it dawned on me that my fellow walker was totally blind. There were no pupils in his white eyes to take in all that surrounded him. We spoke for a while and he started to ask me questions about the distance from the sea as he could smell it. All I could smell was sheep ****.
Then he froze. Finger to his lips. "There she is" he said and pointed skywards. I looked up but nothing could I see. Close your eyes he said. As I sat is the silence of a westerly breeze I started to hear the bird cry. Very faint. Very distinctive. I dared to open my eyes and sure enough about 200 yards away the distinctive sweep of the eagles wings majesticly passed low over the heather. We were above the tree line with no perch for her to use. She dropped into the purple sea and didn't rise again.
What a lesson. There are none so blind as he who will not see.
By Gerry Temple