Who first climbed a mountain just to see what he could see? Of course we have no idea. But we have a good idea who was the first to write about doing just that.
I saw a small mountain range on the horizon in Kilkenny this June. The ridge line in the far distance rolled regularly except for one point, where there was seemingly a piece missing. “You see that break in the mountains there?” my guide asked me. “That’s the devil’s bite. The devil bit off that piece. And he spit it out at the Rock of Cashel.” He stated this as a plain fact. He was a Tipperary native, and great company.
Last night, I dreamed of mountains... The backside of the Tetons. (Now THERE'S a word!) In my dream, I thought the mountains were so beautiful that I could scarcely keep from crying.
And when I woke up, and began my morning rosary, I asked for the grace to always be able to praise God.
Friends of mine are beginning a several-day hike on mountains that reach above 10,000 feet. (We're in Montana.). Like Petrarch, they will take the longer trail, rather than the shorter one. People on this shorter trail tend to fall off and die. That isn't theology, just gravity.😉
You mentioned liking your town better from atop the hill—I grew up in the suburbs of Los Angeles on a hill near the ocean (so singular in the area that it was often called just The Hill). At night, if you drove down a particular road, or sat on the edge of field you could see twinkling lights as far as the eye could reach across the LA basin to the actual mountains (San Bernardino, I think). IT was actually pretty, even though you knew all those lights represented miles and miles of cement. That was my favorite view of my city. Still is.
I can see the appeal of that view. We live now in the foothills of Mount Kearsarge here in central New Hampshire, and I love my view of what they call "The Mink Hills" from my front porch. Tony and I are country bumpkins at heart. I grew up in a valley at the foot of what we called the Hackettstown Mountain, in Hackettstown, New Jersey -- very rural, unlike what anyone thinks when NJ is mentioned. The road leading down to the valley was tree lined, cut into the side of the mountain, and I always love the place where the trees opened up the view of the town. In autumn it was particularly spectacular.
During World War I, Great Britain's King Georg V was embarrassed that the Battenberg branch of the Royal Family had a name that sounded too Germanic. The King thus ordered members of that branch to translate "berg" into "mountain" and move it to the front of their surname to create the very patriotic, British-sounding Mountbatten.
Ooops. Tipperary. Not Kilkenny
I saw a small mountain range on the horizon in Kilkenny this June. The ridge line in the far distance rolled regularly except for one point, where there was seemingly a piece missing. “You see that break in the mountains there?” my guide asked me. “That’s the devil’s bite. The devil bit off that piece. And he spit it out at the Rock of Cashel.” He stated this as a plain fact. He was a Tipperary native, and great company.
Last night, I dreamed of mountains... The backside of the Tetons. (Now THERE'S a word!) In my dream, I thought the mountains were so beautiful that I could scarcely keep from crying.
And when I woke up, and began my morning rosary, I asked for the grace to always be able to praise God.
Friends of mine are beginning a several-day hike on mountains that reach above 10,000 feet. (We're in Montana.). Like Petrarch, they will take the longer trail, rather than the shorter one. People on this shorter trail tend to fall off and die. That isn't theology, just gravity.😉
Glory to God!
That's wonderful! And TETONS -- if I remember, that name has a racy sort of origin, based on what the mountains struck somebody as looking like ....
You mentioned liking your town better from atop the hill—I grew up in the suburbs of Los Angeles on a hill near the ocean (so singular in the area that it was often called just The Hill). At night, if you drove down a particular road, or sat on the edge of field you could see twinkling lights as far as the eye could reach across the LA basin to the actual mountains (San Bernardino, I think). IT was actually pretty, even though you knew all those lights represented miles and miles of cement. That was my favorite view of my city. Still is.
I can see the appeal of that view. We live now in the foothills of Mount Kearsarge here in central New Hampshire, and I love my view of what they call "The Mink Hills" from my front porch. Tony and I are country bumpkins at heart. I grew up in a valley at the foot of what we called the Hackettstown Mountain, in Hackettstown, New Jersey -- very rural, unlike what anyone thinks when NJ is mentioned. The road leading down to the valley was tree lined, cut into the side of the mountain, and I always love the place where the trees opened up the view of the town. In autumn it was particularly spectacular.
During World War I, Great Britain's King Georg V was embarrassed that the Battenberg branch of the Royal Family had a name that sounded too Germanic. The King thus ordered members of that branch to translate "berg" into "mountain" and move it to the front of their surname to create the very patriotic, British-sounding Mountbatten.
Wow, Ed. I can't believe I reached my age without coming across this bit of English history. Thanks for sharing that!