Month: June 2022

I am now back from my second international trip of the year.  It was a good deal less stressful than the previous one, since I did not have to make any of the travel and accommodation arrangements on my own and also since the requirement for COVID testing upon returning to the U.S. has been lifted.  Indeed, although I brought a copy of my vaccination card, it turned out to be unnecessary; no one asked to look at it. Even though the test requirement was waived, I took a COVID test on my own during the last evening of my stay.  As with the Ireland/England trip, I had been eating in restaurants and coming in close contact with people in groups much more frequently than I have been doing at home during the pandemic and I wanted some reassurance that I had not picked up any contagion.  The results, happily, were negative.

Iceland as a whole seems quite confident about its ability to cope with the prevalence of COVID.  No one wears masks anywhere, even in the airport.  About 77% of the entire population is fully vaccinated and over 80% of all residents five years and older are fully vaccinated.  Its mortality rate at this point is less than 0.05%.  Hospitalizations have gone up slightly in the past two weeks, but the number is still fairly insignificant and none of the patients are in an ICU. 

Iceland is a prosperous country.  It was not always so; in the 19^th century it was one of the poorest regions in Europe.  But it has many natural advantages, including an abundance of renewable energy from hydro-power and geothermal-power.  To be sure, it is not rich in mineral wealth, and tourism, which after all is a very volatile source of income, accounts for more than 33% of its GDP.  But the roads are for most part excellent and the grocery stores, even the most rudimentary ones, are invariably well-stocked.  As is the case with so many island nations, it must import a substantial amount of its food.  One can dine very well in Iceland, but not economically.  Many young people from other nations attempt to find temporary employment in Iceland, where the wages are higher than they are in most other European countries. 

The architecture for the most part is uninspiring.  Houses and office buildings alike have a depressing box-like construction and they are frequently painted in bright but crude colors.  Reykjavik is a sufficiently pleasant city, but I did not see a single building in it that impressed me with its beauty of form.

The Icelanders are both courteous and efficient, but they are considerably more reserved than, for example, the Irish or even than the British.  They tend to look down upon loud behavior and in particular, despite their reputation for drinking heavily, upon any public displays of drunkenness.  All of which makes for very pleasant conditions when walking along the streets in the nation:  one is much less likely to be confronted by someone overcome with liquor or drugs than in any American city.  The Icelanders also appear to pamper their dogs much less than the Americans or the British do.  Only once were we accosted by a dog without a leash during eight days of hiking, and the owner lost no time in reining it in once she saw it approaching us.  

The landscape, as will appear when I describe the hikes in more detail, has a strange kind of spare, stark beauty, in sharp contrast to the luxurious profusion of the forests of the Eastern states in the U.S.  Even in suburban Fairfax I was struck upon my return by the leafy canopy along the residential streets.  Fireflies were flitting about during the evening of my return, which is a common sight in the area at this time of year; but they seemed quite exotic after my spending more than a week in an area that has few insects of any kind.  In many parts of the island the view is treeless as far as the eye can see; snow-capped mountains are visible from even the flattest and lowest areas of the country.  Many areas are barren, with hardly any grass or even any moss.  Some areas are densely covered with lupines, but outside of these not many flowers grow in the wild.  The area close the Keflavik, where the airport is located, for the most part consists of bare lava fields and some of the regions we penetrated during our hikes resembled a moonscape.  I would not care to live in such an environment but there is no question that the variety of rock formations and cliffs and shorelines make it a fascinating place to explore.

6/18 – Geldingadalir, 6 miles, 1200’ elevation

The flight was reasonably comfortable, although Icelandair is very much a no-frills airline, serving no food unless passengers elect to purchase it, and even dispensing with the customary demonstrations of safety equipment, presumably because the operators realize that no one pays any attention to them.

We drove to the hotel in rental vans.  I was the designated driver for one of these.  After we left our luggage at the hotel (it was far too early to check in), two of my passengers and I took a hike about 40 minutes from Keflavik in the vicinity of a volcano that erupted just one year ago.  Even the areas where the lava flow did not reach were devoid of vegetation.  Eventually we arrived at a plateau that provided a 360-degree view of the various ranges.  Steam emanated for portions of the lava field.  Parts of it were a pale yellow on account of the sulfur content.  It was very windy on the plateau – our first intimation of the gales that are a continual feature of the island’s climate.

Afterwards we went to Reykjavik, by far the largest city in the nation.  The city alone accounts for over a third of the country’s population, while the greater metropolitan area contains nearly 63%.  As may be imagined, that does not leave many people to inhabit other urban areas.  Akureyri, the largest community outside of the greater Reykjavik area, has a population of less than 20,000.  Despite its limited architectural interest, Reykjavik is a pleasing place to visit, being very clean (it is said to be one of the cleanest cities in the world), with an abundance of shops and restaurants both along the old harbor and around the Austurvöllur, a large park built around a public square that contains buildings of public interest, such as the Parliament House and the Dómkirkjan, the oldest church of the city.

6/19, Glymur, 5 miles, 1200’ elevation

Until recently Glymur had the reputation of being the highest waterfall in Iceland.  In 2007, however, another waterfall called Morsárfoss was discovered within a glacier and it is about 100 feet higher.  Nonetheless, it is a beautiful sight.  It is reached by traversing fields of lupines, threading one’s way through a cave, and then crossing a river to reach an immense canyon whose rocky walls are covered with moss.  It contains numerous colonies of fulmars.  These birds resemble gulls but are not, in fact, closely related and are actually a type of petrel.  They nest on cliffs and keep their eggs on shallow depressions on rock, sometimes lined with plant material.

As we came to the side of the canyon we went upward, continually pausing to view the waterfall at different points from its base to its summit.  On occasion chains were embedded in the rockface alongside the path to aid hikers in ascending.  On the whole, however, it was not unusually steep. 

After reaching the summit above the waterfall itself we descended back to the stream, which we had to cross a second time, this time using water shoes since the stream was wide and the water flow rapid.  It was not very deep in most places but it was cold and we made haste to complete the crossing as quickly as we could.  From there we descended along the south side of the canyon, with many views of the valley below. 

It was rather cloudy and damp that day and unfortunately the rainfall increased during the afternoon.  We had intended to do another hike in the Akranes area, but first we went to Akranes itself and soaked in the hot pool there just beside the beach.  The hot water felt very soothing after the hike; but, alas, the rain did not cease to fall and in the end we had to dispense with the other hike on which we had originally planned.

6/20, Seljalandsfoss/Skógafoss, 12 miles, 2000’ elevation

This time the weather was much more favorable, actually becoming sunny and relatively warm as we progressed.  We first stopped at Seljalandsfoss, which is a popular tourist attraction because it is possible to walk behind the waterfall as well as in front of it.  It was very crowded when we arrived, so we decided to go on to Skógafoss instead and return to Seljalandsfoss later, when the bus tours were less likely to stop.  This turned out to be a wise decision.  Skógafoss is also a popular spot, the waterfall being about the same height (they both have a drop of approximately 200 feet) but it is wider and more powerful.  Most people are content with taking the staircase to an observation post at the top so that they can view the waterfall from below.  However, this ascent is only the beginning of one of the most famous hiking paths in Iceland, the Fimmvörðuháls pass.  It is 22 kilometers (about 14 miles) long; we obviously did not have time to go there and back for the entire length of the trail, but we did go about 4½ in each direction, up to a bridge that crosses the stream onto an extensive plateau. 

Along the way are numerous waterfalls (about 25 in all), with far lower drops than Skógafoss itself but arguably even more scenic, many of them framed by the walls of the gorge of either side.  Many of them shimmered with rainbows.  We were pausing every few hundred feet to take photos.  After we reached the bridge, the descent was much quicker, since we already took photos of nearly every waterfall we had passed (although in some cases we stopped to take a few facing in the other direction).

From there we went to a swimming pool heated by a natural hot-water spring.  It was very enjoyable, although it would not have been possible to have such a pool in the U.S.:  the water was not chlorinated and the surface of the pool’s floor was covered with slime.  The Icelanders, however, are much less fussy in such matters than we are; and as we saw several of them enjoying the warm waters of the pool we imitated their example and found it very refreshing after the 9 miles we had done at the Fimmvörðuháls pass, along with the additional mile from the parking area to the pool itself.

After our swim we returned to Seljalandsfoss, which was indeed less crowded than before.  It is possible to walk behind it, since it falls in front of a cave.  Another waterfall, Gljúfrabúi, is located at about a ten-minute walk from Seljalandsfoss.  It is hidden by a cliff and a stream, the Gljúfurá, runs through a cleft in the cliff.  So one must wade a bit to reach it, but it is worth the effort; the waterfall tumbles in front of a great boulder, the sky opens up above, and a continual mist hovers about the pool at the base, reflecting the glints of sunlight.

6/21, Reykjadalur, 10 miles, 2000’ elevation

Reykjadalur contains the so-called “Hot River,” a stream in which geothermal heat makes it as warm as a hot bath.  It was quite cool and wet when we arrived, and since there was a bus-load of other hikers right at our heels, we decided to hike elsewhere until it became less crowded.  We went on one brief loop and then, when we returned, found it still crowded.  So we went on a second, longer loop – putative loop, I should say, for the trail proved to lead away from the point at which we wished to return, and in the end we were forced to backtrack.  The weather was steadily worsening and the trails were very muddy.  When we finally arrived back at the hot stream I said that it would be misery, after going into the warm water, to put our sodden clothes back on again and then continue over 2 miles back to the parking area.  The others agreed and so we passed by the bathing area for the purpose of returning as quickly as we could.  The wind increased in velocity, the rain lashed out continually, and all in all it was rather a relief to get back to the lodge at the parking area.  The lodge was a pleasant place to linger and to have a hot drink, but outside of that the hike was not enjoyable.  I took very few photos that day, for although we went through scenery that under other circumstances would have been impressive to look out, most of the time on this hike everything was shrouded in mist and fog.

6/22, Hengill, 9 miles, 2300’

This day was also cool and damp, but we did not encounter any heavy rain and on occasion the skies cleared.  Hengill is an active volcano, even though it has not erupted for 2000 years.  But lava is close to the surface, and at one point we came to a stream whose temperature was literally close to boiling, with steam continually hissing from gaps in the rockbed.  The geothermal heat is actually a significant source of energy, and the parking area at the trailhead is next door to a power plant built to harness the heat.  The trail does not appear to be much used. We were the only hikers on it for the entire day except at the very end, when we saw two hikers just beginning their hike from the parking area just as we were returning to it.  The hike supplied many dramatic views of the Reykjadalur valley, although the photos I took of it were somewhat disappointing – the grayish skies and low-hanging clouds made the view seem almost depressing, which in fact was not the case. 

Nonetheless I could have wished to spend more time in the area.  We had a hike of reasonable length and elevation but we had to ensure that we ended in good time because our group had made an arrangement to spend the evening at the Blue Lagoon.  And, in fact, we ended well before the time appointed, so we stopped at a bar along the way.  It was a comfortable place, with several games provided in the sitting area.  JK and MP played darts together, while I eventually got involved in a game of chess with one of the other customers.  I have played chess on the computer from time to time, but it is many years since I played a game with another person.  I won the game, so I was pleased to find that my proficiency had not fallen entirely into disuse. 

And what was it like, this far-famed Blue Lagoon?  Was it “one of the 25 wonders of the world,” as its website claims?  Truth to tell, no.  It is a large geothermal spa and the milky blue color of the water comes from the high amount of silica it contains.  Although it is called a lagoon, it is in fact man-made and the water is a byproduct from a nearby power plant.  The waters are said to have a beneficial effect on people afflicted with psoriasis.  Apart from that, it is difficult to see how it obtained its reputation.  The water is rather tepid in most areas; it was only by determinedly searching out the pumps that feed the hot water into the pool that I found water warm enough for my preference.  The spa provides a drink and a certain amount of silica-based facial cream as part of its package; at one point one can stand underneath a pleasingly hot waterfall and at another one can enter a sauna – but all in all, it seemed rather an overpriced method of obtaining a hot bath out of doors, particularly as we were staying at a hotel with a pool of its own in which the water was heated to over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. 

6/23, Black Sands Beach area, 9 miles, 600’ elevation

This day we did three little hikes, none of them strenuous, but all of them rewarding:

1. Dyrhólaey peninsula

This promenade offers a variety of views both of unique coastal rock formations and of colonies of wildlife.  We saw a few puffins at close range, as well as numerous fulmars and kittiwakes.  The walkway goes up to the lighthouse, at which point we can see many points of vantage to view the seashore below.

2. Reynisfjara Beach

This beach is the well-known black sand beach.  The sand grains are rather large.  In other parts of the beach the shoreline consists of small rocks, rounded and smoothed as if they had been polished.  We first walked to indentations in the rock wall to the south, one of them lined with hexagonal basalt columns.  We had to conclude this part of the walk quickly, for the tide was coming in, and it has swept people out to sea on numerous occasions.  Then we went all the way north to the base of the first overlook of Dyrhólaey before going back.  The beach skirted by a lagoon towards the far end, and many bird colonies were lodged in the rock wall on its far side.

3. Solheimajokull Glacier

Another there-and-back walk, going to the edge of a glacier, with its chiseled appearance and odd blue-green tints.  We could not go on the glacier itself, which requires special equipment (crampons, a helmet, and a harness) but we were able to get all the way to its surface where it reached the path.

6/24, Rainbow Mountains, 9½ miles, 2300’ elevation

Iceland certainly has no shortage of beautiful hikes.  Geldingadalir provided unique views of an area recently overflowing with lava; Glymur was characterized not only by the waterfall itself but the dramatic views of the canyon that enclosed it; Skógafoss and the waterfalls that dotted the Fimmvörðuháls pass were a perpetual delight; Hengill offered exciting vistas of mountain ranges and of a river heated to the point of steaming; the rock formations along Dyrhólaey and Reynisfjara were like none others that I have ever seen.  Each of these would have justified taking an airplane trip across the ocean to experience.

But the hike in the Rainbow Mountains was by far the best of all.  There is nothing quite like it.  The mountain jut up from a flat area without any preliminary rise and many of the peaks are colored with green, orange, red, yellow, and black belts, owing to the different minerals in the soil and also the degree to which the surface has been heated by the geothermal activity below.  In many areas clouds of steam are perpetually emerging from large fissures.  Numerous little lakes of a peculiar glassy silvery blue color are nestled among the mountain roots.  Snowfields spread over the tops of the high plateaus.  In some parts of the trail appear almost golden on account of the reflected sunlight. 

Our hike first led us to the top of one peak, where we lingered to take in the 360-hike – not for very long, though, for the wind was very severe at this elevation.  We went down again and continued along to another, gentler ascent to a plateau.  At this point we had to turn from the main trail (which extends for miles from the campsite at the base) and take another trail, much less well-marked.  We went along several snowfields, frequently consulting GPS to find our way, since the trail markers were sparse in this area.  Eventually we descended along a “knife-edge” until we met with the trail to another peak.  We were not certain whether we could descend on the other side back to the camp or whether we would have to backtrack, but we took the risk and went up.  On the way I encountered two guides monitoring the trails and they confirmed, after I questioned them, that indeed we could get back to the campsite that way and indeed it was the quickest way to do so.  So we stopped at the summit to enjoy another 360-view and then went down. 

We were relatively fortunate in our weather.  It was quite cool and very windy at times, but there was no rain and from time to time we had clear skies. 

6/25, Móskarðshnjúkar/Thingvellir, 9 miles, 2600’ elevation

The last hike of the trip was also a wonderful hike, although it seemed slightly anti-climactic after the hike in the Rainbow Mountains – and indeed that hike can scarcely be surpassed.  But it was impressive all the same, steadily ascending to a ridgeline and then to a high peak, with many views of the lowlands, including birds-eye views of Reykjavik in the distance.  I had expected, from the description, that we would be doing a good deal of bushwhacking.  But the hike was quite straightforward.  We followed a well-defined trail all the way to the summit.  Then we descended down the other side to an old, disused road; there was no trail per se, but after going down a brief distance the road was clearly visible and it was not difficult to reach.  The road eventually led back to meet the main trail a short distance from the parking area.

When we came to the parking area it was empty and we assumed that the hike was not well-known.  However, when we returned over a dozen more cars were parked there.  We had merely gotten an earlier start than the others. 

This circuit was only five miles long, so we drove down the road briefly to Thingvellir National Park.  This park contains points of both scenic and historic interest.  It is one of the only places in the world where it is possible to walk through two tectonic plates.  The continental drift between the North American and Eurasian Plates can be clearly seen in the cracks or faults which traverse the region.  Going through the largest of these is like going through a canyon.

Historically, it was the site of the Althing, the open-air assembly first held in 930 that functioned as Iceland’s parliament.  Iceland did not have a king during the earliest period of its history.  The Althing did not have much in the way of executive power to enforce the laws, but it was the only institution that the country had to provide any kind of centralized government.  The assembly was a festival as well as a national gathering of lawmakers, where people exchanged news and gossip, and met up with old friends.  Women attended this festival as freely as the men, and sometimes marriages were arranged there. 

It is pleasant place to stroll about and a good way to wind down after a week of intense hiking.  It is much greener than the other parts of Iceland we had seen, with an abundance of grassy meadow and even some scattered groves of trees.  It contains a couple of waterfalls and there are paths that go along the shore of a lake, on which many large geese were swimming.  The day was clear and sunny and somewhat warmer than most of the days we had hiked earlier in the week.

We departed on the following day.  I can praise the Keflavik airport only circumspectly.  It is clearly not large enough for the amount of traffic it handles – rather like the Dublin airport in this respect.  The areas where the passengers waited before boarding, to be sure, had many interesting stores and restaurants and they were very clean.  All was well once passengers could seat themselves and the plane actually began moving.  The flight was smooth and arrived more or less on time, and the line at Customs was passed through with surprising speed.  There were no flaws of any note except in the boarding process; but there the deficiency was considerable.  Notifications of gate assignments for various flights were given just minutes before the boarding process itself, barely allowing passengers sufficient time to pass the security check of their passports.  The lines for the various airplane gates were not clearly demarcated and they are in close proximity with one another, so that it was easy to wait in a line only to find out, as one approaches the gate entrance, that one has been standing in a line for the wrong gate.  In addition, there was a delay in boarding, a delay in admitting us to the causeway to the airplane once the boarding process began, and another delay in allowing passengers to move from the causeway into the airplane itself.  Standing in a narrow enclosed elevated causeway with dozens of other people for several minutes on end while waiting to be admitted into an airplane whose doors are only a few feet distant is not the most pleasant way to begin a flight.

Steve Bannon in and out of court – COVID remains a pandemic – Heatwave in the Midwest and the West – Short-sightedness of the Democratic Party – Evening statistics

Yesterday Steve Bannon provided a media appearance in outside of a courtroom in Washington, in which he gave a long speech characterized by his usual intemperance of language, claiming that the MAGA movement will take over the US, gain “80 to a hundred” seats in the two chambers, and rule for a hundred years.  He made this performance after a three-hour hearing in which he attempted, in vain, to get the criminal contempt of Congress charges against him dismissed.  Bannon, it may be noted, has assets worth $11.8 million to $53.8 million, including some rental real estate which, however, comprises a relatively small amount of his holdings.  In Jane Austen’s words, “What a difference a vowel makes! – if his rents were but equal to his rants!”

COVID deaths have been declining over the past five weeks, but they are beginning to rise again, chiefly in Latin American and the Western Pacific.  The WHO said that coronavirus cases are still falling, with about 3.2 million new cases reported last week.  This number represents a decline in infections since the peak in January . Still, there are significant spikes of infection in some regions, with the Middle East and Southeast Asia reporting increases of 58% and 33%, respectively.  As always, the WHO has to cope with the issue of under-reporting, particularly now that many countries have reduced surveillance and testing.  Most of the countries in Europe and North America have dropped COVID-related restrictions, but China maintains its rigorous “no COVID” policy.  Residents in Beijing are still undergoing regular testing – in most cases every two days – and must wear masks and swipe a mobile phone app to enter public places and facilitate case tracing.

A heatwave in the Midwest has reached such extremes that about 107.5 million Americans, more than a third of the nation’s population, have been warned to stay inside.  Record temperatures for this day of of the year have been set in many parts of the West:  109 degrees in Las Vegas, 100 degrees in Denver, 100 degrees in Chicago as well.  In Phoenix the temperature has reached 110 degrees for four consecutive days, never dropping below 80 degrees at night.  Already the seasonal wildfires are beginning.  About 300 people were evacuated in close to Los Angeles as wildfires sparked over the weekend swept a mountainous area to its north-east. Blazes throughout the dry region covered more than 990 acres.

I have been critical of the Republican Party for its unwillingness to shake off the throes of Donald Trump, but I must not fail to remark that the Democratic Party’s aversion to change is not one whit less intense than that of its rival party.  Numerous Democratic Senators have publicly declared that they will support Biden in his efforts to campaign for a second term – this, despite the fact that, were he to win the next national election, he would be 82 years old on Inauguration Day of 2025.  Are they really so destitute of talent as to be unable to supply an abler and more vigorous candidate?  He is not popular at this juncture.  Rising gas prices have greatly impacted our population’s mobility, mortgage rates are now the highest they have been for 35 years, and more families are complaining that they are just barely able to live from paycheck to paycheck.  In all likelihood the Democrats will pay a huge penalty for their association with him during the oncoming midterm elections; the projections at this point are for a substantial Republican increase in both the House and the Senate.

Today’s statistics as of 8:00 PM – # of cases worldwide:  543,002,179; # of deaths worldwide: 6,337,848; # of cases U.S.: 87,836,012; # of deaths; U.S.: 1,037,885.  Our death toll is still relatively high.  COVID has claimed about 0.3% of the U.S. population since March, 2020.

The Platinum Jubilee – The House committee hearings – COVID in North Korea – The CDC lifts COVID testing for travelers – Evening statistics

As a result of the trip and its aftermath, with preparations for a second trip hurriedly following, not to mention the task of working out the hiking schedules for two different hiking clubs, I have had little opportunity for delving very deeply into the headlines.  But now I have a few moments to resurface and to experience the pleasure of being up-to-date again – rather a dubious pleasure, it seems to me.

However, not to shirk my responsibilities –

I was not entirely untouched by the news during my stay in the UK.  I was there, of course, during the week of the Platinum Jubilee.  Queen Elizabeth II is now officially the second-longest reigning monarch in history, being exceeded in this respect only by Louis XIV, who became King of France at the age of four.  Her mobility is limited now and her direct participation in the festivities was somewhat curtailed in consequence; but this amazing woman still acts as a rallying point for the British and, at 96, held a reception for pensioners and gave a speech on Accession Day renewing her commitment to a lifetime of public service, just as she had done in 1947.  At the party I attended in the UK, the other attendees were curious to hear what sort of reputation she had in the United States, and I had great satisfaction in assuring them that she was well-regarded there.  We could have used a figure like her in our own national arena during the past two years, battered as we have been both the pandemic and the upheavals in the White House. 

Speaking of the latter, today is the second day of the greatly-heralded hearings of the House committee investigating the attempted government overthrow January 6, 2021 attack on the Capitol, in which the following points were established:

 It cannot be said that any of these disclosures came as a surprise.  They have been fairly apparent since – oh, ever since January 6, 2021, I suppose.  The question is whether the findings of the investigating committee will have any tangible consequences.  Will Trump ever be indicted for his offenses?  Will he ever be held accountable in any way for his manifold trespasses, and even crimes?   At this point he has gone for such a long time without undergoing the slightest penalty for his flagrant violations of the law or of any wavering in his overwrought groupies, who currently seem to be in control of an entire political party, that I have lost any hope of seeing him brought to justice. 

1. Donald Trump knew his claims of a fraudulent election were not true and made them anyway, despite several staff members warning him that they had no basis in reality
2. Trump’s staff was decided into two groups:  a “Team Normal” that was well-aware that the election was over and that it was time to pack up, and a “Team Giuliani” that deliberately fostered Trump’s paranoia and advocated baseless claims of election fraud
3. Millions of dollars were sent to a non-existent “Election Defense Fund”

COVID is raging throughout North Korea, although, as always, statistics are impossible to obtain.  The government admitted that 4.5 million (about 17% of its population) have been infected, but claims that only 72 have died, or a fatality rate of 0.002%  – which is, to put it mildly, improbable.  The American mortality rate from COVID, for instance, is about 1.2% cumulatively.  Most North Koreans who live in mountainous areas (and it is a very mountainous country) can’t even reach provincial hospitals because of poor roads and transport. They are most likely ailing, and possibly dying, in isolation.  Almost all of the medicine in the country is imported from China and the last two years of border closures have choked off this supply. 

I have mentioned that the CDC has at last lifted its requirement for travelers to the U.S. to receive a COVID test before entering the country.  “The COVID-19 pandemic has now shifted to a new phase,” officials said in a news release on Friday, citing “highly effective” vaccines and “high rates of vaccine- and infection-induced immunity” among Americans.  About 78% of Americans have been vaccinated and it seems that at least 58% of Americans have been infected at least once.  Indeed, I can’t see any pressing reason for such a requirement at this stage.  I am admittedly somewhat biased, having traveled recently to Ireland and the UK, and planning to travel again within a few days.  But if the test requirement was enforced with the idea of keeping the virus out of the country, it has manifestly failed:  the number of official COVID cases is well over a quarter of the population and it seems that the CDC has estimated the infection rate as considerably higher.  Nor did it make much sense to impose this requirement on those entering the country by legitimate means, while ignoring the numerous hordes of people crossing our borders illegally.

Today’s statistics as of 8:00 PM – # of cases worldwide:  540,859,662; # of deaths worldwide: 6,332,125; # of cases U.S.: 87,362,317; # of deaths; U.S.: 1,035,903.  It has been nearly a month since I tracked COVID statistics.  In that time less than 11,000 deaths have occurred in the U.S. during that time, a far lower number than comparable intervals in the past year.

Ireland/England Trip

It’s nearly a month since I’ve made an entry, and although I have written down travel notes (as I usually do on any long journey) I will have to give a shortened version here:  the trip was so long and so eventful that a complete account would run to a volume.

It was a stressful trip.  The hikes in Ireland took us through some lovely scenery; the society of my hiking companions was an invariable source of pleasure; it was delightful to connect with my friends in England after a hiatus of three years.  But I could not enjoy it as much as I would have done under ordinary circumstances, for three reasons.

First, the company that organized our trip thoroughly mismanaged the arrangements.  I cannot understand it.  I have taken two other trips with this organization previously, and everything ran like clockwork.  But in this instance almost every aspect of the trip was bungled.  No documentation was sent, and it would have decidedly useful; for the Kerry Way, though well-marked, frequently presents a choice of alternate routes.  We had no guidance whenever this happened, and had to blunder our way as best we could.  Occasionally we had to rely on taxi services to transport us after the hike from the endpoint to our accommodations, and these were a nightmare:  it took repeated exchanges of Emails to obtain such fundamental details as the time of pickup and the place we were to meet.  Even in small details there were troublesome omissions:  for instance, we never received any labels for the luggage that was to be transported from one location to another, and I do not envy the transport employees who were forced to examine each piece of luggage to locate its label when the labels had no standard size or placement.

Then, too, the Kerry Way is rather a mixed blessing for hikers.  It traverses, as I said, beautiful scenery, with lofty ridgelines, broad green valleys, clear blue lakes, and dramatic coastlines.  But over a third of it consists of road-walking, and in addition it is poorly maintained, going through many boggy areas with no drainage or water runoffs.  In several areas the trail is visibly eroding, as a result of people tramping through the mud that oozes several inches deep.  Even in Wales, where (as will be seen) I did a little additional hiking and where the terrain and soil are similar, it was much better maintained and it almost came as a shock to be treading on firm ground again instead of on slippery mud and stone.

Finally, the COVID test that I was required to take at the end of the trip cast a long shadow over the entirety of my stay.  Initially I had hoped that I would be able to find a place to take the test in Shropshire, where I was staying with my friends.  But there weren’t any; the British test centers for the most part shut down in April after the UK lifted its requirement for testing to cross its borders.  In the end I had to take the test at Heathrow, which meant that instead of being able to go to London the day before the flight and enjoy a few hours touring the city, I had to book a hotel in the vicinity of Heathrow in order to take the test there.  (Heathrow is quite a distance from London, and traveling back and forth from one to the other multiple times would have taken several hours.)   On top of that, I developed a cold that was characterized by a persistent cough and nasal congestion – not a surprising consequence, one would say, of hiking several days in wind and rain, but one whose symptoms could obviously have another interpretation.  The account of those friends of mine who had toured the Lake District and afterwards were forced to stay three additional days in quarantine continually recurred to me, and I was all but certain that I would be enduring the same fate.

To proceed to a day-by-day account, including the hikes I did:

May 17/18, Washington to Shannon

A wretched flight, two hours late in departing – which was, indeed, the case, for many of the flights at the airport:  I was sufficiently curious to look at the list of departing flights, and over half of them were delayed, most of them significantly so.  Landing in Shannon, I took the bus to Limerick and then to Killarney, where I was much relieved to arrive at the B&B booked for us – and I will say, at the onset, that the accommodations throughout the trip were excellent.  So, too, was the dinner at a place nearby.  Killarney is a considered a small town, but it has many attractions and, as I was to discover later, is delightful to walk through.

May 19, Killarney to Black Valley, 14 miles, 2000’ elevation

This first hike was a good one to start with, leading alongside a bay, then around a 19^th-century mansion (Muckross House), then ascending up to a waterfall and from there to a ridgeline.  That was the big climb of the hike; afterwards the ups and downs were gentle, circling around a lake and eventually leading to a road that led to our B&B for the night.  The landlady was obviously apprehensive about COVID, wearing a facemask throughout the duration of our stay and taking some care to keep distant from us.  I don’t suppose it can be very enjoyable being forced to have a stream of strangers in one’s house on a daily basis in the midst of a pandemic. 

There were eight of us in all, and we separated into subgroups.  Four members of our groups going together got lost – thanks to the lack of documentation that I remarked upon earlier, as they came to a place that had a choice of routes and they took the wrong one.  In the end they had to take a taxi to arrive at the B&B.

May 20, Black Valley to Glencar, 18 miles (not counting a few detours), 2000’ elevation

This was a frustrating hike in many ways.  It rained in the morning, not heavily, but in sufficient quantities to make the rocks on the ascent to the first ridgeline and the descent afterwards very slippery and to transform much of the path into a quagmire.  The hike had much to offer:  green valleys, dense forest alternating with broad meadows, swift-running streams.  Later on the weather cleared and the ascent up the second ridgeline, although longer and steeper, was less arduous. 

After coming down we had a choice of routes, one described as the cross-country route and the other as a roadwalk.  MG and I, who were hiking together, naturally chose the cross-country route.  This was a mistake (which could easily have been avoided if we had received the appropriate documentation).  The first half-mile of it was a misery, nothing but boulders and mud and puddles.  In drier conditions it would have been tolerable, but as it was, we were longing for it to be over.  The remainder went over some road walking and a rather long fire road, eventually leading us to an impressive stone bridge, where the accommodation for six of us was located (the other two stayed at a different one, not far from the point where the choice of routes occurred). 

The landlady was a very charming person, albeit somewhat subdued in manner.  I afterwards learned, by accident, that she had recently lost her husband.  How difficult it must be to maintain a B&B or any sort of private inn at times!  This unfortunate woman had no time to mourn in private.  But she did not give a hint of any emotional upheaval and she treated her guests with quietly attentive service throughout the duration of our stay.  It was a lovely place, and possessed, among its other attractions, a beautiful sitting room where we had a view of the dark waters of the Meelagh River flowing under the moss-covered bridge.

May 21, Glencar to Glenbeigh, 5 miles, 1000’ elevation

It should be noted that those of us at staying at Blackstones (the B&B close to the stone bridge) had hiked a miles past Glencar itself, which is why this hike was so short.  It was wonderful nonetheless, taking us first along a road (with, thankfully, little traffic) up to a trail that went up to a ridgeline called Windy Gap.  As we looked back, we had magnificent vistas of the valley, ringed with mountains, that we had just quitted; after reaching the summit, we had equally imposing views of the bay area with the Atlantic Ocean to the west and the Dingle peninsula to the north.  The houses of Glenbeigh were clustered along the flatter portion of the meadow stretching to the shore.  From here we descended to Glenbeigh, where we met with the other two members of our group for lunch. 

Glenbeigh itself is rather a pretty little village with several restaurants and a couple of stores.  Several wedding parties were being held when we arrived (it was a Saturday), with people quite elaboratedly attired.  Since we had several hours to wait before the taxi to our next accommodation arrived, we strolled about, eventually going to the shore of the bay and then back to the main street.

May 22, Glenbeigh to Cahirsiveen, 15, 2000’ elevation

We cut off the first three miles of the route, which consists entirely of road walking – walking on a road that services a fair amount of traffic – by taking a taxi on our own initiative.  The first part of the hike was spectacular as we ascended Drung Hill, which climbs steadily to a ridgeline that overlooks the broad Ferta valley and numerous cliffs that drop down to the sea.  The wind blew steadily as we gained in elevation, but it was the type of wind that invigorates rather than disheartens – for me, at any rate:  I felt an energetic spring in my gait as I went forward.  We passed a group of Ukrainians, who were being hosted by a few of the local residents.  One of those hosts appeared taken aback by rapidity of our pace, as ET and I skirted around them, and he called out towards “Don’t kill yourselves now!”; to which ET replied airily, “Try telling that to Josh!”  I could not help it; the combination of the increasingly dramatic vistas, of the wind blowing about us, and the steadiness of the ascent that gradually exposed views of sea and cliff and meadow and streams, so that I felt as if I were floating upwards – these all acted upon me like an intoxicant and it was impossible for me to traverse it sedately.

The remainder of the hike was something of an anti-climax.  Most of it was on fairly level ground, much of it muddy.  There were a few good views here and there of the valleys between the mountains, but less imposing than what we had seen earlier.  Cahirsiveen, however, was a surprise:  it was considerably larger than I expected and possesses several attractions, some of which I explored the following day. 

May 23, Cahersiveen, 16 miles, 1000’

Officially this day was a “0” day, which no specific hike designated.  But the weather was too splendid for us to remain inside all day, and, besides, there was much in the area to see.  Cahirsiveen, among other things, is the birthplace of Daniel O’Connell, the liberator of Ireland, the determined opponent of slavery in every shape or form, the adherent of non-violence whose policies helped shape those of both Gandhi and Martin Luther King. 

TK, CC, MG, and I had bypassed a mile or so of the Kerry Way towards the end of the previous hike, going into the town by a more direct route; so I went along the portion on which we had missed out, and it featured one or two notable viewpoints.  Then I went along the Daniel O’Connell Heritage Trail, which included his birthplace, a very mournful-looking old abbey and graveyard where several of his relatives and associates are buried, the memorial church built in his honor, and the old army barracks.  The church looks like a Gothic church, but is in fact a Victorian imitation and was not fully completed until 1902.  Then I went to a summit outside the town called “The Top of the Hill,” a magnificent 360-degree view of the town itself, the marina, Valentia River, Valentia Island, the Dingle peninsula jutting into the ocean, and the Blasket Islands to its west.   Finally I went to two old stone forts – not military outposts, but strongholds built by landowners in times when law enforcement was barely known and most people had to fend for themselves.  One of them dated back to 600 A.D. and the other to 1000 A.D.  They are entirely circular and built of flat portions of slate that fit together with astonishing precision.  The interiors were wide enough to sustain several dwellings, the remains of which could be clearly seen.  I had anticipated a rather dull day, so all of this activity and variety were a delightful surprise. 

May 24, Cahersiveen to Waterville, 12 miles, 2000’ elevation

Initially the hike was estimated to be 19 miles, but again we took a taxi to eliminate a portion of road-walking (a step, as it turns out, recommended by the documentation), five miles of which we had already done on the May 22^nd hike.  The first portion was quite challenging, consisting of a series of ascents and descents, all of them steep and most of them extremely muddy.  Eventually we obtained the top of a ridge, where we had many panoramic views – including, interestingly, several wind turbines that did not jar with the natural beauty but actually accentuated it.  At one point we reached a choice of routes, one that continued along the ridgeline and one that dropped down into the valley.  This time ET, MG, and I, who were together, made the correct choice, continuing along the ridgeline and eventually making our way to our accommodation, which was about a mile outside of Waterville itself.  Along this ridge there were many lovely views of the lake below and of Waterville itself nestled along the narrow isthmus that separates Lough Currane from the bay opening out to the Atlantic. 

Waterville itself is a well-known golf resort and, consequently, has many restaurants, some of them quite elaborate.  We splurged that evening, selecting one about a mile from our B&B; and our hosts obligingly drove us to its doors.

May 25, Waterville to Caherdaniel, 11 miles, 1200’

Again we were split up into a group of six and a group of two for the night; the group of six all walked together.

I started this hike without enthusiasm.  The first mile was along a major traffic artery without shoulders, followed by another roadwalk through the town and then outside to the south; the sky was gray and overcast; the wind blew persistently and mistily.  Waterville is sufficiently pleasant, but nothing more.  As we passed by the golf course it was rather amusing to see golfers swinging at balls in the midst of a high wind.  Most of the views were obscured by mist. 

Who would have guessed that this unpromising beginning would lead to one of the most splendid moments of the trip?  We went over a ridgeline and down again, crossed that same traffic artery on which we had hiked for the first mile, and went down to a junction where we had a choice of routes, one that led over more ridgelines and one that went along the coast.  But we were prepared for this, having been notified beforehand, and took the coastal route.  The weather began to clear as we descended to the beach, and soon we were passing through a succession of little bays and inlets, low cliffs covered with foliage and with flowering purple rhododendron in particular.  This plant is regarded as an invasion species in both Ireland and the U.K., but it was magnificent to behold nonetheless. 

Afterwards we stopped at Derrynane House, the ancestral home of Daniel O’Connell.  We did not tour the house itself, but stopped to treat ourselves to ice cream at its food store and afterwards to tour its extensive gardens.  Then we went to our accommodation, which involved a fair amount of road walking.  But the B&B featured by largest bedrooms by far we had slept in, and our hosts were delightful people and obliging as well, driving us to the local pub in Caherdaniel (a village with a single street) and picking us up, and driving us to the trailhead the following morning.

May 26, Caherdaniel to Sneem, 10½ miles, 1400’ elevation

Again, I was not looking forward to this hike.  The wind was beating against the windows, and the air was misty and wet.  Our B&B, however, was at a somewhat higher elevation than the our starting point, where it was much less windy and the moisture for the most part consisted of drizzle – quite tolerable on the whole.  Still, there was nothing much to see:  only the vaguest of outlines were discernable through the mist, which never lifted during the entirety of the hike.

“It is a queer little Cornish village, very picturesque – too picturesque, perhaps.  There is rather too much of the atmosphere of ‘Ye Old Cornish Tea House’ about it.  It has shops of bob-headed girls in smocks doing hand-illuminated mottoes on parchment.  It is pretty and it is quaint, but it is very self-consciously so.”

Substitute “irish” for “Cornish” in this description by Agatha Christie of the Cornish village of Mousehole,  and you will have a fairly accurate description of Sneem.  It is pretty and it is quaint, but very self-consciously so.  Sneem is a popular tourist destination, with several busloads of foreign visitors duly unloaded to stay there for a few hours (we encountered one of Norwegians when we stopped there to snack to fill in the interval between our arrival at our destination and the check-in hour for the B&B), so its self-conscious picturesqueness has considerable economic motivation. 

May 27, Sneem to Kenmare, 22 miles, 2500’

Only MG and I did the entire hike; the others took a taxi to cut off the first five miles.  This portion was pleasant walking, but nothing out of the ordinary. 

There followed one of the best sections of the Kerry Way and one of the worst.  MG and I eventually crossed the Blackwater Bridge, at which point the trail went down to the bank of the Kenmare River (which actually is more of a bay than a river), with a stunning panoramic view of sparking blue waters and the Beara peninsula to the south.  As it happened, we arrived just after 11:30 and we had completed (as we thought) about half of the hike, so it seemed the perfect spot for lunch.  

This turned out to be a fortunate choice.  Afterwards the trail left the shoreline and went through what the guidebook describes as a dense woodland but which is much used for timber and is filled with fallen trees; then it went along service roads and eventually along a major traffic artery. 

And here our lack of documentation hampered us in an infuriating fashion.  Our maps indicated that we had to continue along this traffic artery for about a mile.  But the signs for the Kerry Way indicated that we should deviate off of it onto a series of secondary roads.  It turns out that the route indicated by the signs adds more than 2 miles and 500 feet to the hike, which already had been estimated at 20 miles.  But MG and I were unaware of this (as was everyone else in our group); we had to choose between the map and the signage.  In our ignorance, we went with the latter, which took us first up and then down winding asphalt roads past a series of suburban houses, a most tedious diversion.  

Afterwards the two routes converged and we were on track again.  But the trail went up and down two hills, and it was thoroughly sodden on both of them, and on the second one in particular.  It was maddening to see the town of Kenmare just below us while being forced to go at a snail’s pace along a seemingly endless series of marshes and quagmires studded with wet rocks.  Going up on these hills was not too bad, but the descents were a torment.

Kenmare is a lively, prepossessing town and all of us wished that we had had time to explore it a bit – which would have been possible if we had known in advance about the shorter route.  As it was, the arrangement was for us to be taxied back to Killarney and to be driven to the start point of the hike for the next day, so that we would not have to pack and unpack for the last day of hiking.

May 28, Killarney to Dublin

TK, CC, MB, and I elected to bow out of the last day of hiking, which repeated nearly 10 miles of what we had covered on the first day.

I had intended to ascend Torc Mountain, but at one point I realized that I was too constrained by time.  I strolled about the town for a while, then took the train to Dublin, staying overnight at a hotel near the airport.  I would have done better to take the ferry, as my British friends advised; had I done so, I could have stayed in Dublin itself and spent a few hours sightseeing.

May 29, Dublin to Bangor, plus walking tour of Bangor, 7 miles, 500’ elevation

Another dismal flight.  Ordinarily it takes 45 minutes to fly from Dublin to Manchester, but this flight took twice as long.  It took more than an hour to check in and go through security.  Factor in the train ride that I took the preceding day from Dublin to the airport, and it will be seen that the 4½-hour ferry from Dublin to Holyhead would have amounted to the same time in travel, and much pleasanter, to say nothing of being closer to my destination.  The train ride from Manchester to Bangor is three hours, whereas from Holyhead it would have been only ½ hour.

Bangor is an attractive university town.  I had a good walk through the town, going through the center to the pier, and up the Coastal Path to the summit above the university.  After savoring the birds-eye view of the town and the strait between the mainland and the Isle of Anglesey, I gradually descended through the university grounds and skirted by the cathedral.

May 30, Bangor to Twywn

My British friends live in Shropshire but have a second home in Twywn.  I took a bus to meet them in Dolgellau, met up with them, toured the town (not a time-consuming enterprise, since its population is well under 3,000), drove to Machynlleth, where we had lunch, and toured that town as well.  Machynlleth is connected with Owain Glyndwr, the Welsh prince who rebelled against the English during the reign of King Henry IV and who was crowned in the town’s Parliament House (one of the three medieval buildings in town that still survive).  We also stopped along the way at the beach town of Aberystwyth, which resembles Cape May, NJ in some ways:  the house architecture is somewhat more elaborate than those of the neighboring areas and the exteriors have similarly bright pastel colors.  After we arrived at their place in Tywyn I did little, being tired by so much traveling during the preceding two days.

May 31, Talyllyn Railway Trails, 16 miles, 400’ elevation

My friends had various household tasks to pursue and, having recovered my energy after a day’s rest, I took their suggestion of hiking along a network of trails in the vicinity of the Talyllyn Railway, a narrow gauge preserved railway about 7¼ miles long.  My friends accompanied me first to the main church, St. Cadfan’s, which contains the Cadfan Stone.  It is a stone cross whose inscriptions are possibly the oldest known examples of writing in Welsh.  Afterwards they pursued their errands and began hiking.

The railway itself, originally designed to carry slate from quarries to Tywyn, is now a tourist attraction.  The trails are not challenging but very enjoyable, with numerous view of hills, rivers, small towns, fields, and the railway that weaves in and out of the valley.  One of the loops led, by means of a brief detour, to the grave of Mary Jones, a well-known figure in the Welsh Methodist church.  I ended by going through Tywyn’s main street and the promenade.  Tywyn does not possess the somewhat more showy attractions of Aberystwyth; but it was built up by a 19^th-century industrialist, John Corbett, as a beach resort to rival Torquay and its promenade in particular offers striking views of the coastline.

June 1, Happy Valley and back, 4 miles, 600’ elevation

We were to leave for Shrewsbury that day, but because my hosts had much to do in closing up the house for some time, I occupied myself by going up through the Happy Valley up to a saddle from which I had splendid views of the descent on the other side to the shoreline below.

After I returned the house was boarded up and we went to Shrewsbury.  English country roads are narrower than ours, sometimes with insufficient room to accommodate cars traveling in two directions.  It’s like driving on a road with continual one-way thoroughfare, equipped with occasional bulges where cars can wait to allow those coming in the opposite direction to pass by before proceeding.  We ate dinner and then went to a performance by a local theater group of various sketches by Alan Ayckbourn.  They were very slight, but rather amusing.  What was notable about this evening is not the playlets themselves but the fact that this is the first performance of any kind I’ve attended since November, seeing and hearing Handel’s Messiah in Alexandria.  I have not overcome my reluctance, brought on by the pandemic, to enter an enclosed room full of people for two or three hours on end.

June 2, Hereford

This visit consisted of city walking, about 11 miles in all, chiefly to visit the amazing cathedral, as well as the Black and White Museum.  The cathedral, whose construction began in the late 11^th century, is one of the outstanding Norman churches of England.  It is also home to the Mappa Mundi, a medieval map of the world created about 1300, the largest medieval map known to still exist, and the chained library, in which books (most of them handwritten on vellum, long before movable type came into use) are resting upright and are equipped with chains attached to their frames for the purpose of pulling off the shelf.  The Black and White Museum is a preserved house of the family of fairly prosperous butchers during the English Civil War, providing insightful glimpses into the lifestyle of middle-class families during the 17^th century.  The town center is vivid and colorful, consisting of numerous pedestrian walkways, most of them cobbled, and several examples of medieval architecture.  Further away from the center is an extensive park along the Wye River, where I saw an abundance of waterfowl, including several swans.

June 3, Shrewsbury

This day was devoted to relaxation, chatting and strolling with my hosts, and afterwards visiting some friends of theirs for the late afternoon.  We were expecting to attend an afternoon tea, but we were provided with so much food as to make dinner unnecessary.  Again, this was notable for being one of the few indoor parties I’ve attended since the pandemic began.

June 4, Shrewsbury to London

Back to sober reality!  I have made no reference to the pandemic during my account of the trip, but it did not fail to obtrude on this enterprise.  No COVID test was available in Shrewsbury.  I left in the late morning to take the trains (Shrewsbury to Birmingham, Birmingham to Euston Station in London, Paddington Station to Heathrow), arriving at about 4:30 to register for a COVID test.  The registration process was difficult; the form is not easy to fill out via cell phone and I had to enter nearly every piece of information twice over before the application would accept it.  The test process itself was rapid and seamless.  It was completed in a matter of minutes and I received the results a couple of hours later.  There was one advantage to this enforced COVID test:  it was relief to know that, after taking so many journeys on trains and buses in which hardly anyone wore masks and after dining at more restaurants in the past two-and-a-half weeks than I had done in the two years since the pandemic began, I had not come down with the disease.  That sounds unduly fearful and even old-maidish when written down; but the effect of the pandemic has been to transform many of us into hypochondriacs.

After testing I took a bus to the hotel.  I was exhausted by that time and had little inclination to dine out.  My friends had packed some sandwiches for me before I left, and these sufficed for dinner.

June 5, London to Washington

In contrast to my departing flight, the return home could not have been better.  Boarding, for a wonder, began precisely at the time advertised; whereas the usual procedure is to delay boarding until about ten minutes before the scheduled departure and then hastily cram the passengers on board in an effort to make up for lost time.  The flight departed on time.  I was assigned a middle seat, but three of the people in the row were a family that wanted to sit together and they asked if I would mind taking the aisle seat instead.  Needless to say, I accepted with alacrity.  We landed a few minutes early.  The line for Customs was long, but it moved surprisingly quickly, and I got through just as the luggage had been transported from the plane and was appearing the in baggage claim area.  The taxi ride encountered little traffic, for we were traveling on a Sunday.  In short, it was as close to perfect as I’ve ever experienced on any airplane journey.

Among the choice of movies to watch on the plane was one entitled “The Eyes of Tammy Faye,” purporting to be an account of the rise, fall, and redemption of Tammy Faye Bakker.  It was quite a jolt to learn that she had redeemed herself in the least trifling particular.  As far as I can discern, she and her husband have no regret for their defalcations, other than that of being found out; and after their much-publicized repentance are devoting their activities to bilking their followers of as much of their money as they can lay their hands on.

How good it felt to be home, after an absence of nearly three weeks!  Everything – trees, roads, houses, office buildings – appeared so much larger, after being in Ireland and England for 19 days.   It was warm and sunny, the first truly warm day I had experienced ever since I left the country.  I still was recovering from my cold, and now at last I had an opportunity to let it bake out.  I am committed to leave for Iceland later this week, but the auspices for this trip are somewhat more promising.  All of the arrangements have been made in advance and we will be staying in a single set of cabins, rather than moving from one accommodation to another night after night.  Best of all, we received news that the COVID test for returning to the U.S. has been waived, as of June 12^th.