Brisk Plunge

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         Finding yourself in a cocky mood? Or more appropriately, an Irish mood? Well, there’s a place filled with grins and room for highly entertaining shocked faces to watch. Whether from the bitter cold water for the first few minutes, or on the potential chance that you caught the sight of a man going swimming like the good ol’ days when it was merely a men’s bathing area. (If it’s the latter and you’re not too keen on human mooning, averted eyes would be a good route to take.)

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         Historically, the location was a gentlemen's bathing location, where they could be free from prying eyes. Nowadays though women and children come join in the sweet swimming location.

         Down one side are old looking handrails. Feeling unsure one can steady themselves down some to the water; easing in for a slow acclimation to the coolness, until it begins to not feel unbearably cold and instead turns considerably tolerable.

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         For the people who prefer to bear risks and take an off chance, or slippery slope approach, an outcropping of rocks at high tide beckons. A worn sign warns of the danger of diving into the pool-like area, but plenty of people give a careless shrug or shift and take it head on, making the dive regardless.

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         The Forty Foot seems to be a place of smug faces ready to enjoy the view and brave the frigid water. Its charm does not fade during the winter, though logic would seem to suggest otherwise. In a self-satisfied defiance however, the Forty Foot has managed to convince hundreds of swimmers to join it for a Christmas morning swim.

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         Though many people call those who dare the deep winter water such things as crazy, or insane, scoffing at the tradition; there seems to be an underlying sense of pride for Dubliners. It’s like most people can’t stop grinning when their friend says they’re going to do something rather stupid but relatively harmless. It’s a duty to berate, after all “I wouldn’t do that.” Still, you’ll probably cave later and ask with a twinkle in your eyes how it went.

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         The view stretches across the water pleasantly, and feet are not hemmed in by brushing a surface underneath. Instead coolness yawns deeper and deeper down, and feet paddle to stay afloat for the most part.

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         So if this Christmas you happen to find yourself in the area, you might want to take a moment to wonder if you’re the type of person ready to join a mad rush of people stepping and diving into a December sea, just because of tradition and spunk. Who knows? Perhaps it’s the next plunge for your life…

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References:

"Outdoor Swimming Ireland." Outdoor Swimming Ireland. Web. 10 Dec. 2015. <http://www.outdoorswimming.ie/Co/Dublin/40_foot.html>.

I used these other sites to read some comments here and there from people who’ve actually been there. The mood and tone of my paper borrows some of the general feeling I gathered from these snippets:

"The 40 Foot - South Inner City - Dublin, Republic of Ireland." Yelp. Web. 10 Dec. 2015. <http://www.yelp.com/biz/the-40-foot-dublin>.

"The Forty Foot - Glenageary - Dublin, Republic of Ireland." Yelp. Web. 10 Dec. 2015. <http://www.yelp.com/biz/the-forty-foot-dublin>.

"The Forty Foot (Dublin, Ireland): Address, Phone Number, Body of Water Reviews - TripAdvisor." The Forty Foot (Dublin, Ireland): Address, Phone Number, Body of Water Reviews - TripAdvisor. Web. 10 Dec. 2015. <http://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g186605-d216538-Reviews-The_Forty_Foot-Dublin_County_Dublin.html>.

A Crooked Mystery

         The Crooked Forest of Poland.

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         Theories surround this intriguing forest in an almost tangible whirlpool. They writhe and flicker with a call for attention and acceptance. With the rustling leaves they whisper with a rattle, and fall with a gentle thud. Perhapses and maybes float along and stick to the malformed bark with a firmness that refuses to scrub off. Suspicion crawls through the shadows and imaginations come alive with the possibilities. Everyone has an idea or a shrug, whether mundane or exotic, it creeps through the minds of individuals who have stumbled across the phenomenon. 

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         Perhaps, say those who might have a yearning for science fiction, there is a gravitational pull which bowed these trees. Just this one small area, and for a certain amount of time, gravity defied all our known rules. With their eyes alight they exclaim, Just think! What could this mean!? Those less whimsical scoff and call them crazy. After all, we know gravity. It might have actually been… An army of tanks. If the trees were young enough, the tanks could have plowed right over them and created enough trauma that the saplings never recovered! The idea gets shaking heads again though. Maybe, those who are often termed insane say, It was aliens… The crowd disperses before anyone can say ‘flying saucers’. 

         The theories fall short on explaining why only a small area of the forest is affected, for the rest is filled with tall, straight, normal trees. A general consensus has evolved to support one theory, which is, though most plausible, still fascinating in its own way. Perhaps man purposefully altered the growth of the trees. Heads turn as their ears are tugged to listen. After all, they continue, with bowed wood it could be used for shipbuilding and such. The crowds nod their head, while some of the more fanciful turn away with a shake of theirs. Yes perhaps. World War II could have interrupted the farmers from bending the rest of the trees. The war also forced people from their homes, which would account for why the memory of what happened is lost from the near village. How man bent nature however is a curiosity in and of itself.

         Everyone agrees however on at least one thing. Mystery. It is a mystery.

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         Some of the crooked trees unfurl their trunks toward the sky. They look like elephants. Massive and strong. Towering above the ground. If anything led to a comparison between tree trunks and elephant trunks, this would be it in the purest sense. Together, they point north and bugle their war cry with a thump of silent drumming feet. 

         

          These arching trees stand poised to shoot arrows to the north in a daunting uniformity among the wildness. They are a small army surrounded by a rigid, unmoving, one. It is a contrast of bows and staffs. Perhaps they are at war with each other, or maybe they are really fellow soldiers, keeping an eye on their strange brethren.

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Resources:

"What Could Have Caused Poland's Crooked Forest?" IFLScience. 1 July 2014. Web. 17 Oct. 2015. <http://www.iflscience.com/environment/what-could-have-caused-polands-crooked-forest>.

"The Crooked Forest of Gryfino, Poland." The Crooked Forest of Gryfino, Poland. Web. 17 Oct. 2015. <http://www.amusingplanet.com/2013/06/the-crooked-forest-of-gryfino-poland.html>.

Reporter, Daily. "The Crooked Forest: Fantasy Woodland That Could Have Come Straight from a Fairytale." Mail Online. Associated Newspapers. Web. 17 Oct. 2015. <http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2047406/The-crooked-forest-Fantasy-woodland-come-straight-fairytale.html>.

World of Wonders

    At times, life can start to feel a bit mundane. It might feel like we’re trapped, sucked into the same old routine day after day. The beauty of sunrises are lost as we rush out the door or stay glued to our bed, sunsets fade as we do dishes and homework. Our world is beautiful, yet we pass it by almost every day.

Our world is also filled with many wonders. Some of them are natural, others are crafted by man, many of them ancient. Yet most of these wonders are unknown to the average person. After all, who has time to learn about places they’ll never go? Yet these grand works of art are too amazing to allow them to slip by, especially in an era of technology so accessible many people just take it for granted.

What is life without a thirst for adventure? I’m an avid reader, and so I have tasted of different decades, traveled countless times, felt emotions on each end of the spectrum, and most of all, felt alive. I know I can not travel to all of these breathtaking places, but I do not want to ignore them. I want to gobble them up in any way I can.

This is why I would like to write about the places worthy of being second guessed as extravagant dreams. To find the beauty in something seemingly impossible, feel the eeriness of ancient stone, taste the salt air on my tongue as I see water glow, and touch the bark of trees with character. I want to look at a mountain silhouetted against the sky, and then feel the crisp air at the top. I want to make every beat of my heart mean something more.

While I have always loved the idea of travel and sights for sore eyes, I used to merely think of the exploration of them as an unattainable dream. Then, I found The Silent World by Jacques-Yves Cousteau. He was one of the first deep sea divers. I read his book and was fascinated by the complexity, and simplicity, of discovering the best methods for deep sea diving and the strange bits of information that are never thought of. I decided that I must read more of these unique non-fiction books. “These things are real!” My soul kept exclaiming.

Eventually I came across the non-fiction travel section where a delicious title caught my eye, The Royal Road to Romance by Richard Halliburton. It was an older book, in publication not condition, and so I deduced that the word “romance” was used in the captivating sense of a traveler in love with adventure. I was right, and I joined Halliburton in his love for travel. I was flabbergasted, he traveled so many places, and did so many crazy things, I was almost exhausted by his determination to persevere. He climbed to the tops of mountains nigh unscalable, snuck aboard trains, mingled in society, witnessed festivals only had specific times of the year, sailed on ships, snuck pictures, and reveled in the enchantment of stone palaces. He found beauty in things I’d never thought existed, and did things I didn’t believe could be done.

Since then I have been whisked into distraction by websites showing off a ‘certain number of places you won't believe are real.’ The funny thing is, a lot of the time they’re right. I didn’t know such places existed. Yet, they’re beautiful. They’re breathtaking. And they’re at our fingertips.

I wish that I could travel to all the places, but other than the problematic idea of time, is the completely unromantic fact of a lack of money and the difficulty of vagabond travel in our days. I am resolved though, to not let myself completely let these places go. They deserve to be seen, to have their history discovered, and their story shared with anyone who will read them.

I plan on pulling from Halliburton’s books and prominently from the internet. I would like to pick a place, find a picture (or more), and dig up some of the history about the place. Then, for the fun part, spin the words to attempt to captivate some of the majesty of these dreamlike, and yet very real, places. I will have a chance, in this small way, to live a part of my dream. To seek, discover, learn, see, and write. I don’t think I can come up with a more pleasurable pastime. … Except perhaps for reading.