Closer to God
In my last missive I tried to describe how one of the most popular pastimes in the UK had affected my Dad and in turn had affected me.
Well this is a small follow up to that piece but still revolves around the the river Edw.
Just to recap the Edw is a tributary of the Wye river that runs from central Wales (I have another childhood tale there about searching for it's source, but another time) and itself becomes a tributary of the Severn Estuary. An "interesting" fact of which is that it has the a tidal range second only to the Bay of Fundy in Canada. Which is the highest tidal range in the world.
I think this photo was taken a bit furhter downstream than the section I am attached to. But it does demonstrate the closeness of the mountains to the river. Which kind of gives the whole area it's attraction. I always felt it was like being watched over by giants, big friendly giants.
My Dad knew a local farmer who had grown up in the valley and he once made a statement that had stuck with me for many years. I recounted it to him several years ago when I revisited the area with my own family.
His reply took me by surprise and saddened me as we had entered a misunderstanding and he thought I had belittled him in some way when in fact we just had different meanings for the same phrase.
Many years before me and my Dad escaped to the area for a few days (Dad having given up the fishing for some time - another story as usual). It was never a chore to come here even if I didn't fish. I could think of few places in the world I could idle away some hours with just sheep for company. After a day in the country side we took our farmer friend out to a local establishment for a dinner to thank him for his hospitality.
As an aside he remarked that the last time he had been in this particular pub it was at the expense of the SAS who were conducting a major training exercise and were asking all the local farmers to be on the look out for "suspicious characters" and not help them in any way. The farmers all tucked in to a free steak dinner and then completely disregarded the army. An urban legend no doubt - or should that be and agricultural legend?
The evening went by and it was all reminiscence here and reminiscence there but the interesting thing was that our friend said that there was one place on the Edw where he felt closer to God than any other place he had been to (including national service in Egypt). I was agog to learn where. It was on a bend of the river known as Priests Pool. So later I visited the spot and veritably I understood his sentiment. I could totally understand why he found it so special. The tinkle of water over a small waterfall, the presence of the mountains and the shear peacefulness.
However the conversation, many years later when I recounted this tale, and my understanding of his words elicited a most unexpected response. He appeared to feel slighted as though I was poking fun at him. It became apparent I had a different understanding of "feeling closer to God"
It seemed that in his vernacular that this was a fearful place. When ever I use the term I always understood it to mean the times of purest joy. Usually atop a mountain leering into the valleys below. In my world this was an expression of great happiness but to our friend it was almost the opposite.
It was interesting how different we had been brought up to think about God.
Well this is a small follow up to that piece but still revolves around the the river Edw.
Just to recap the Edw is a tributary of the Wye river that runs from central Wales (I have another childhood tale there about searching for it's source, but another time) and itself becomes a tributary of the Severn Estuary. An "interesting" fact of which is that it has the a tidal range second only to the Bay of Fundy in Canada. Which is the highest tidal range in the world.
I think this photo was taken a bit furhter downstream than the section I am attached to. But it does demonstrate the closeness of the mountains to the river. Which kind of gives the whole area it's attraction. I always felt it was like being watched over by giants, big friendly giants.
My Dad knew a local farmer who had grown up in the valley and he once made a statement that had stuck with me for many years. I recounted it to him several years ago when I revisited the area with my own family.
His reply took me by surprise and saddened me as we had entered a misunderstanding and he thought I had belittled him in some way when in fact we just had different meanings for the same phrase.
Many years before me and my Dad escaped to the area for a few days (Dad having given up the fishing for some time - another story as usual). It was never a chore to come here even if I didn't fish. I could think of few places in the world I could idle away some hours with just sheep for company. After a day in the country side we took our farmer friend out to a local establishment for a dinner to thank him for his hospitality.
As an aside he remarked that the last time he had been in this particular pub it was at the expense of the SAS who were conducting a major training exercise and were asking all the local farmers to be on the look out for "suspicious characters" and not help them in any way. The farmers all tucked in to a free steak dinner and then completely disregarded the army. An urban legend no doubt - or should that be and agricultural legend?
The evening went by and it was all reminiscence here and reminiscence there but the interesting thing was that our friend said that there was one place on the Edw where he felt closer to God than any other place he had been to (including national service in Egypt). I was agog to learn where. It was on a bend of the river known as Priests Pool. So later I visited the spot and veritably I understood his sentiment. I could totally understand why he found it so special. The tinkle of water over a small waterfall, the presence of the mountains and the shear peacefulness.
However the conversation, many years later when I recounted this tale, and my understanding of his words elicited a most unexpected response. He appeared to feel slighted as though I was poking fun at him. It became apparent I had a different understanding of "feeling closer to God"
It seemed that in his vernacular that this was a fearful place. When ever I use the term I always understood it to mean the times of purest joy. Usually atop a mountain leering into the valleys below. In my world this was an expression of great happiness but to our friend it was almost the opposite.
It was interesting how different we had been brought up to think about God.
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