Blogtrotter

Ag stánadh uait

Sílím faoin spás. Feicfear ach triú chuid achar go ceart nuair rachfar ar an díseart. Déanann muid dearmad; tá sé níos mó gur measaim muid. Léigh mé seo teacs ann. Fuair mé as "An Lámhleabhar Mhaireachtáil Dhíseart." Chuaigh mé ar An Leabharlann Lárnach i na gCathair nÁingeal ar lár.

Shúil mé i dtreo na h-áit inné. Bhí lá teas an earraigh. Bhí sé leathuair tar éis a dó tráthnóna. Fhilleadh mé as an grian. D'fhan mé faoi scáthannaí na ilstórachaí, nó teachtái na spéire. Chóir an lucht oibre go beag crannaí ar an cosáin shráide.

Tháinig mé isteach ansin. Bhí socair agus fuar istigh san fhoirgneamh. Tógann sé os cionn agus thíos trí i ngach h-urlar. Chuaigh mé anuas an staighre. Bhain mé an lámhleabhar de seilf, ach ní raibh sé ag tógtha liom. Ní rinne mé bearna ar an mála agam air. Cad a tharla? Bhí mian liom rudaí éagsulaí. Rug mé ar foireann seifeannaí na Stáir na gCalifoirnea leabhair Ghleann Báis eile.

Tá mé ag léamh faoi scéalaí go hiondúil anois. Feiceann ar an leabhar go hiontach le Risteard Lingenfelter go raibh dlíodóir sa fichiú céad déag i dtósach leis ainm céanna agamsa féin. Mhear Séan Ó Murchú ar an shraidbhaile mianadóireachta i bhfád Phanamint seisean féin! Tá baile thaibhse inniu go mbeadh ag cur cuairt agam go luath.

Ar raibh íonadh ar Seán an aturnae ann go uile? Ar fear Éireannach é? Bhí maith leis ar an te is cumhlachta sin? Ar raibh sé ag féichthe ar na radhairc go halainn is cosuil an iómhá na radharc seo, gur taispéantaim thuas? Cá fhad seisean go raibh maireacht ansuid? Níl fhíos agam go raibh fir go Eirinn ag imirt siar. Caitheamh eolas air. Foglaimeoidh mé go leor futhú. Ar ndóigh, tuigim go raibh (agus go bhfuil) mar áiteannaí go leor fír na t-ainmheannaí is coiteann céannaí leosan! Mar sin féin, tá ainm aige go raibh dífrúil níos coitianta domsa, leisean mean-litir "M."

Staring into Space

I think about space. One may see only a third of the correct distance when one is going in the desert. We make a mistake: it is bigger than we think. I read this in a text. I found it out in "The Desert Survival Handbook." I went to the Central Library in Los Angeles downtown.

I walked in the direction of the place yesterday. It was a warm spring day. It was half-past-two in the afternoon. I returned out of the sun. I stayed under the shade of high-stories, or houses in the sky (skyscrapers). A group of a few workers trimmed trees along the sidewalks.

I came into there. It was calm and cool within the building. It's built above and below three stories each. I went down the stairs. I took the handbook off the shelf, but it was not taken with me. There was no gap in my satchel for it. What happened? I brought from the shelves on California History other books on Death Valley.

I'm reading about the marvellous stories now. I see in the wonderful book by Richard Lingenfelter there was a lawyer at the start of the twentieth century with the same name as me. John Murphy lived in the remote mining hamlet of Panamint itself! It is a ghost town today that I would like to visit soon.

Did John the attorney wonder at it all? Was he an Irishman? Did he like that most powerful heat? Did he look at beautiful panoramas similar to this vista's image which I show above? How long did he himself last out there? I do not know how many Irish went out west. I must find this out. I will learn more information about these [matters]. Of course, I understand that there were (and are) many such places with men of the same very common name! However, his name was a more popular variant of mine, his with a middle letter "M".

Photo/ Griangraf: Q.T. Luong Desert Gold flowers and Panamint Range, Ashford Mill area, sunrise. Death Valley National Park