All Entries Tagged With: "Ridgway"
The Banshee at the Bridge
“The banshee,9 Misther Harry? Well, sir, as I was strivin’ to tell ye, I was goin’ home from work one day, from Mr. Cassidy’s that I tould ye of, in the dusk o’ the evenin’. I had more nor a mile – aye, it was nearer two mile – to thrack to where I was lodgin’ with a dacent widdy woman I knew, Biddy Maguire by name, so as to be near me work.
“It was dark the first week in November,10 an’ a lonesome road I had to travel, an’ dark enough, with threes above it; an’ about halfways there was a bit iv a bridge I had to cross, over one o’ them little sthrames that runs into the Doddher. I walked on in the middle iv the road, for there was no toe-path that time, Misther Harry, nor for many a long day afther that. But, as I was sayin’, I walked along till I come nigh upon the bridge, where the road was a bit open, an’ there, right enough, I seen the hog’s back o’ the ould-fashioned bidge that used to be there till it was pulled down years ago, an’ a white mist steamin’ up out o’ the wather all around it.
“Well, now, Misther Harry, often as I’d passed by the place before, that night it seemed sthrange to me, an’ like a place ye might see in a dhrame; an’ as I come up to it I began to feel a cowld wind blowin’ through the hollow o’ me heart. Mushi Thomas, sez I to meself, is it yerself that’s in it, sez I. So I put a bould face on it, an’ I made a sthruggle to set one foot afore the other, ontil I came to the rise o’ the bridge. And there, God be good to us! in the cantle o’ the wall I seen an ould woman, as I thought, sittin’ on her hunkers, all crouched together, an’ her head bowed down, seemin’ly in the greatest affliction.
such a pair iv eyes as they wor…as cowld as the moon in a bog-hold iv a frosty night.
“Well sir, I pities the ould craythur, no matther the mortal fright I was in, so I up an’ sez to her, ‘That’s a could lodgin’ for ye, ma’am.’ Well, she tuk no more notice o’ me than if I hadn’t let a word out o’ me, but kep’ rockin’ herself to an’ fro, as if her heart was breakin’. So I sez to her again, ‘Eh, ma’am, is there anythin’ the matther with ye?’ An’ I made for to touch her on the showldher, ownly somethin’ stopped me, for as I looked closer at her I saw she was no more an ould woman nor she was an ould cat.
“The first thing I tuk notice to, Misther Harry, was her hair that was sthreamin’ down over her showldhers, an’ a good yard on the ground of aich side o’ her. O, but that was the hair! The likes iv it I never seen on mortial woman, young or ould, before nor sence. It grew as sthrong out iv her as out iv e’er a young slip iv a girl ye could see; but the color iv it was a mysthery to describe. The first squint I got iv it I thought it silvery gray, like an ould crone’s; but when I got up beside her I saw, but the glance o’ the sky, it was a sort iv an Iscariot color, an’ a shine out iv it like floss silk. It ran over her showldhers and the two shapely arms she was lanin’ her head on, for ll the world like Mary Magdalen’s in a picther. And then I persaved that the gray cloak and the green gownd undernaith it was made of no earthy matherial I ever laid eyes on.
“Well, Misther Harry, the word wasn’t out o’ me mouth afore she turned her face on me. Musha, Misther Harry, but ’twas that was the awfullest apparition ever I seen, the face iv her as she looked up at me! God forgive me for sayin’ it, but ’twas like no face I could mintion – as pale as a corpse, an’ most o’ freckles on it, like the freckles on a turkey’s eff; an’ two eyes sewn in with red thread, from the terrible power o’ cryin’ they had to do; an’ such a pair iv eyes as they wor, Misther Harry, as blue as tow forget-me-nots, an’ as cowld as the moon in a bog-hold iv a frosty night, an’ a dead-an’-live look in them that sent a cowld shiver through the marow o’ me bones. By the mortial! ye could have rung a taycupful o’ cowld paspiration out o’ the hair o’ me head that minute, so ye could.
“Well, I thought the life ‘ud lave me intirely when she riz up from her hunkers, till, bedad! she looked mostly as tall as Nelson’s Pillar. An’ with those two eyes gazin’ back at me, an’ her two arms stretched out before her, an’ a keine* out iv her that riz the hair o’ me scalp till it was as stiff as the hog’s bristles in a new hearth broom, away she glides – yes, glides – around the angle o’ the bridge, an’ down with her into the sthrame that ran underhernaith it.
” ‘Twas then I began to suspect what she was. I made a great sthruggle to get me two legs into a fast throt, in spite o’ the spavin o’ fright the pair o’ them wor in. How I brought meself home that same night the Lord in heaven ownly knows. For I never could tell. But I must ha’ tumbled agin the door, and shot in head foremost into the middle iv the floork where I lay in a dead swoon for mostly an hour. The first I knew was Mrs. Maguire stannin’ over me with a jorum o’ punch she was pourin’ down me throath to bring back the life into me, an’ me head in a pool iv cowld wather she dashed over me in her first fright.
“Arrah, Misther Connolly…What ails ye to put the scare on a lone woman,”… sez she.
” Arrah, Misther Connolly,’ she sez, ‘what ails ye, to put the scare on a lone woman like that?’ sez she.
” ‘O, glory be to God!’ sez I. ‘But I thought I was in purgathory at the laste, not to mintion an uglier place,’ sez I, ‘ownly it’s too cowld I find meself, an’ not too hot,’ sez I.
” ‘Faix, an’ maybe ye wor more nor halfways there, ownly for me,’ sez she. ‘But what’s come to you at all, at all? Is it your own fetch ye spirit ye seen, Misther Connolly?”
” ‘Aw, naboslish (don’t mind it)! sez I. ‘Never mind what I seen.’
“So, by degrees, I began to come to a little; an’ that’s the way I met the banshee, Misther Harry!”
“But how did you know it really was the banshee after all, Thomas?”
“Begor, sir, I knew the apparition of her well enough, but ’twas confirmed by a sarcumstance that occurred the same time. There was a Misther O’Nale was come on a visit, ye must know, to a place in the neighborhood – one o’ the ould O’Nales iv the County Tyrone, a rale ould Irish family – an’ the banshee was heard keinin’ round the house that same night, by more than one that was in it; an’ sure enough, Misther Harry, he was found dead in his bed the next mornin’. So if it wasn’t the banshee I seen that time, I’d like to know what else it could a’ been.”
-John Todhunter (1809-73)
9. The banshee, the female apparation who wails before the death of a human (but only for members of old Irish families), is sometimes accompanied by a coach-a-bower—a huge black coach which is pulled by headless black horses, and driven by a dullahan, a headless phantom. Duffy’s Sixpenny Magazine (Dublin) tells us that “the sinister, coffin-mounted coach rumbles to the door of a dying Irishman or Irishwoman, but should anyone be so foolhardy as to open it a basin of blood will be thrown in his face.” The origin of the dullahan is obscure. According to Thomas Crofton Croker, it is believed to have emanated from Norway where, folklore has it, the heads of corpses were cut off enfeeble their ghosts, however, W.B. Yeats offers the suggestion, that the dullahan may have descended from the giant of Irish mythology who swam across the Channel with his head in his teeth.
10. Many Irish folktales dealing with fairies are laid in November, the third fairy festival of the year. The first is May Eve which, however, occurs only every seventh year when they fight furiously for the harvest—the choicest ears of grain, of course, belong to them. The fighting can be detected in the shirling of the wind and the debris of the fields and woods flying about. Witnessing this, the peasantry respectfully remove their hats and murmur, “God bless the good people.”
The second of the fairy festivals occurs on midsummer Eve. At this time, when the bonfires are kindled on every hill in honor of Saint John, the fairies are at their merriest—and usually most lustful. Sometimes, on Midsummer Eve, they will steal away beautiful girls for their brides.
The November Eve festival sees them at their wickedest—and gloomiest—for this is the first night of winter, according to the old Gaelic reckoning. On this night, the fairies dance with the ghosts, the pooka is abroad, and witches make their spells. After November Eve the blackberries are no longer wholesome because pooka has spoiled them.
*The Celtic form for keen; to wail or howl in mournin for the dead.
AJAX SET TO GO OFF
(Telluride) Ajax Mountain, the rocky Casanova peak that dominates the immediate eastern landscape here, is about to explode. That’s what seismic impulses detected since early yesterday clearly indicate.
Despite the fact that Ajax is not, and has never been volcanic, tremors felt as far away as Cahone suggest that local residents may be in for a big surprise. Scientists working round the clock at Bridal Veil Falls Observatory are hoping to pinpoint the exact time of the eruption. At press time they conclude that the mountain will most likely blow her top on or about April 15.
“At least she’s waiting until the end of ski/tax season,” said a Telpie gov’ment/ marketing source. “It’s hell trying to market a ski area with volcanoes going off. We had enough trouble with the airlines and slick roads. Let’s just hope the whole incident has followed its course and is over by Bluegrass.”
Local volcanoes Little Cone and Lone Cone, located to the west, haven’t erupted since before the Utes moved in. They have been examined on an annual basis for the sake of public safety, having been chronicled as dormant. This whole Ajax phenomenon appears to have surfaced from out of the high altitude rockwork.
Volunteers from the local population have already began sandbagging from the Idarado Mill to the site of the ancient city of Pandora. These regiments are made up primarily of home owners and realtors, concerned about the price of properties covered in lava.
“We know that lava creates great soil but we’re not a farming community — We’re a resort!” said Herm Mitt, associate broker at Catastrophe Realty on Pacific Street. “What are we to expect? A latter day Pompeii? Does this mean we’ll finally have hot springs of our own?”
Dr. Suzanne Cheavers, a visiting seismic fellow from Cal Amari University told The Horseshoe that things like this are quite common all over the world and in Grand Junction.
“Imagine shoppers lingering on the avenue at the time of massive impact,” she began, “hoisting that last precious cappuccino to their lips, moments before they are preserved forever under mounds of hot lava. Avalanche danger — A latte for eternity!”
Cheavers then suggested that the occurrence of an earthquake has nothing to do with sin and debauchery like in the old movies. She said that virgins have not been effective in holding back hot magma from the conduit throat of the parasitic cone but that its often fun to try.
“Ancient man thought it was a goof to throw some young thing down the volcano on a Saturday night,” said the doctor. “It’s a lot like square dancing, bowling or going to the movies today. It just goes to show that recreational pursuits really haven’t changed that much in centuries. Who ever thought skiing would catch on.”
Although not expected to pack the wallop of volcanoes such as Krakatoa or even Cotopaxi, Ajax is no wimpy volcano. Classified as the Strombolian type it should feature thick lava, gases and numerous explosions. The bars should be packed.
Up in the fashionable Mountain Village residents are standing pat. Confidant that an impenetrable system of security checkpoints will save them they continue to go about their business as usual.
“The lava would have to fill up the entire Bear Creek Valley before we’d get touched,” said J. Jimmy James Woolcotte, of Fort Worth. “I’ve seen this same kind of thing once while floating the Brazos on Pearl. We just offered the thing cash. I just hope we don’t have a mad exit of refugees on the gondola. Those people down in Telluride can be so frumpish.”
Dr. Cheavers plans to consult with other anthropologists in the region and construct a viable master plan with which to organize resistance.
“Either we’ll survive or we won’t,” she said. “Ultimately even National Historic Districts are temporary and, after the dust settles, it might be a lot easier to find a place to park.” – Kashmir Horseshoe
LIFE, LOVE AND AREPAS
- Which transport over the pass to Riosucio?
Photo by Delinda Austin
LIFE, LOVE AND AREPAS IN THE GREEN COLOMBIAN ANDES
The next installment of Love and Antioquia, will now be presented novela (the game show concept failed to generate any interest). But before I become further distracted from my immedite chore I wish to remind you that the Spanish word for the day is tierna, which means tender, and describes my traveling companion.
LOVE AND AREPAS
All plates in Colombia feature a big (or sometimes small) bad arepa for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It’s a cross between a dry corn bread and a dry corn tortilla. Just looking at one has been known to produce cottonmouth. I think people eat them because they always have and for no other good reason. But they are tenacious. In their defense arepas are friends with scrambled eggs and cheese, beans and rice or potato soup and a salad.
RUM BEFORE DISHONOR
Beautiful window shutters in Jardin
Upon arrival at LaTampa Cafe in Jardin for my morning coffee I noticed my friend Alfonso was meticulously filling a large chuckhole with coffee grinds from his operation. I watched him complete the job and said nothing.
Jardin looks a lot like Ouray and acts like Ridgway back in the 70s. Salsa, Cumbia, Tango blasting from the bars mixing unintentionally with church bells and the clop of horses on the cobblestones. We saw few gringos in the two weeks spent here. Even fewer up above town where our hotel had a big bathtub and two delicious trucherias (trout restaurants) ruled the roost. One of these eateries, Valdivia, features a very social German Shepherd greeter at the gate.The culture is strong in Antioquia, not yet diluted by world tourism, which has affected other towns on the so-called gringo trail. The better your Spanish, the better your visit.
MUCHO RUIDO
Tree falls in Jardin Photo by Delinda Austin
Did you know that famous Colombian singer Alci Acosta honed his vocal skills selling chocolate in Riosucio? (Home of some of the meanest birds in the world). That’s where we are headed over a three-hour dirt road in the back of a chiva (a pickup with covers and bench seats). It will be nice to have some silence but, no way; Someone turns on a blasting radio station from Manizales. Noise is a definite irritant in Colombia but fortunately I brought along my 5 x 8, super whambo 800-decibal Cerwin Vega alto veces (loud speakers) to act as ample equalizers.
Jardin Plaza Song
The elders convene
on the plaza today
Mornings to the east
Afternoons to the west
remembering the yesterdays
on the plaza
remembering when youth confused them
remembering the joys denied.
These precious wonders of life
on the plaza.
Giant Ejected from Montrose Men’s Room
Local Events As We Imagine Them
(SoMo DFZ* – Feb 25, 2015)) A bullying giant was forcibly evicted from a public lavatory early this morning after police received countless complaints from bar patrons. According to eyewitnesses the inebriated giant became abusive when cut off and asked to leave the premises.
It took more than a dozen police officers and several militiamen about three hours to eject the intimidating titan who had cleverly wrapped his gargantuan body around a string of urinals and stalls. Finally after “great perseverance” rescuers managed to pry the monster free, squeeze him through the front door and strap him securely atop a waiting cruiser.
The overstuffed culprit (measured at 6 feet, 10 inches and weighing well over 300 pounds) is currently housed in a suite of cells at the local slammer charged with disturbing the peace, felonious mischief, stealing toilet paper and wasting water. Ironically he had become a tourist attraction when sober but police warned that “he has arms and should be considered dangerous”. They urged residents to lock their doors, order a pizza and watch police shows on television.
The San Juan Horseshoe chose not to report the story until later in the afternoon contending that the news might frighten tourists away from the town. After further investigation it became clear that the giant had once been employed as a proofreader/bouncer at the paper but was fired because he was too big to fit behind the copy desk. – Gabby Haze
*South Montrose Duty Free Zone
