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The special touch of Caithness

Publié le par Bertrand

Je suis en ce moment, et les lecteurs de ce blog ne diront pas le contraire, dans une période d’hommage au Caithness. Rappelons le, le Ceilidh porte une dédicace « aux gens du Caithness » et le clan Sinclair prépare la newsletter du printemps à laquelle j’ai l’honneur de participer. Je viens de leur faire parvenir un nouvel article retrouvé dans mes archives et consacré à ma perception du Caithness telle que je l’avais décrite au moment où, en juin 84, je m’apprêtais à quitter la région. Voilà cet article tel que je viens de l’envoyer et qui fera l’objet d’une parution dans une édition ultérieure de la newsletter.
 
              “What a miserable day!” and people are struggling back to their houses as if the smell of peat or coal was drawing them away from the stormy landscape. The train, like a monster at the top of Station Road blows its last whistle and throws itself towards the moorland, through the snow and the lights of the station softened by the heavy fall... It seems to be a kind of old fashioned loaf put into an oven. Going along Wick River, it will meet the other train coming along Thurso River, and after the junction, give you a real feeling of adventure through the bad weather in the moorland among the many prehistoric remains hidden beneath peat.
              “That’s winter !”, the impressive winter of Caithness, stretched away from the heart of the country. The blocks of ice come down the rivers, through the towns of Wick and Thurso, down to the sea where they finally follow the natural rhythm of the tides...
              On certain days, from the bridge, I think the river is a link between the crashing waves of the Creation and the setting ices of an early moving glacier : it seems Caithness is the stone of meeting waters, erosion and time. Time flowing away, as quickly as the high and fresh clouds rushing their way through the high winds, time blowing through our old ruins of Auld Wick and Sinclair Girnigoe castles, giving to them a sense of mystery. Nobody would approach them at that time of the year, except with a bottle of whisky to keep the body warm and the ghost stories alive !
              Sheltered in the houses, it’s time to realize that the history of these castles is slowly dying away... But you surely still know the story of John Sinclair “starved to death” in Girnigoe dungeon... The striking words of the tale still blow in your memory as violently as the winds on the cliffs, slowly eroding into the rocks and the country itself.
              “Lovely day, isn’t it ?” and people are strolling about Bridge Street, feeling the light air, wearing their light clothes, mothers talking together, slowly pushing their prams. The waters have turned green in the river and the sun is still high in the sky when you can hear the whistle of the train leaving at 6.
              There is something changed : the winter cycle has gone by, here comes now a new cycle of time, with the longer and longer days, the miracle of nature dying to express itself through the many facets of life.
              “Up Helly Aa !” as they say in Shetland : the sun comes into the summer cycle, right to the climax of the midnight sun. The standing stones on the hills still keep an eye on the slow approaching lights of the solstice. Then, there is, in the atmosphere, a feeling of precious, magic moments : time doesn’t seem to pass... Maybe you’ll fancy going out at midnight, it doesn’t matter, it’s still bright ! Going along Wick River, right to the Fairy Hillock, maybe you’ll be entranced in this quiet area where the legend is slowly coming back to your mind as a part of the landscape.
 
              That is the special touch of Caithness : the blending of time and seasons And because of that, the casual tourist will never feel the real Caithness... Not the Caithness one can experience on a summer day, reflected in the smiling faces of people who have endured a long hard winter with tenacity and are now rejoicing in the sunshine.
 
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B
J'aimerai ecrire sur l'Irlande, ses chansons celtiques, sa verdure et son hisoire
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E
Il y a une profonde correspondance entre les l'Irlande côté Connemara et l'Ecosse des Highlands... Pour beaucoup de raisons...