Part 1 here

Note: hat-tip to Thalia, whose Story Arks covers such a broad palette in a completely cohesive way, and played a part in me thinking about just writing about what I know, rather than being tied to a rigid theme like “music” or “culture”. And after all, “culture” is everything we do that isn’t directly involved in paying the bills and putting bread on the table, isn’t it?

The Right Tool for the Job

Satellite power!

In the first part , I discussed the pros and cons of using online mapping technology specifically on a mobile phone, in comparison with physical maps; while also attempting to drill down to where there might be identifiable qualitative differences between the two media in the eyes of the user.

In this final part, I wanted to cover the discrete technology of GPS devices, as these operate independent of 3G/4G, and so could be said to be neither online nor offline or “off-grid” if you prefer.

Of course, GPS tech is now truly mainstream in one form or another , so I don’t need to add much. But it goes without saying that for off-road, off-net use, there is only one sensible option in the digital realm.

In essence, no matter where you are on the planet (except in some regions where domestic GPS signals are jammed), if you can see the sky then you can get a signal from enough satellites to provide the “triangulation” needed for accurate grid reference information and everything else that hangs off that prerequisite of functionality.

In addition, most modern hand-held GPS units have the ability to be pre-loaded with highly detailed OS-level maps (at a cost). And even the basic built-in maps have enough “major landmark/feature” information to get by at a pinch as long as the route is simple and unambiguous enough. But I would stand by my earlier assessment that the on-screen map is no match for the real thing, for the reasons given - In my experience and opinion of course.

But for me the single biggest reassurance factor of the GPS has to be the constant availability of that vital grid reference which is only verifiable through the map and compass method when several factors around the landscape come together.

These would include very good visibility, an approximate idea of where you are to within fairly tight margins (less than a mile would be as far as my limited expertise would stretch and maybe that is very optimistic), and several distinctive landscape features to enable some sort of manual triangulation and orientation within the map area.

So that is an acknowledged big win for the digital option again, especially in safety terms.

I have to admit that I usually check the trip computer display (shown above) at the end of any new track I have completed, and although most of this could be roughly worked out using the manual computation methods, there is a certain interest in seeing the numbers there immediately, even if the accuracy is at best plus or minus 10%.

Most importantly it is a nice visual summary of the day’s achievement (especially the total ascent reading) which also says “time for a well-earned beer or two” in my case.

Keeping it Real

Re-connecting by un-connecting?

I just wanted to show the inbuilt electronic compass. Although obviously I understand what it does, I somehow instinctively reach for my old manual compass every time I need to orientate myself in my surroundings or confirm that I am on a broadly correct bearing in the absence of any sort of track.

I mention this because perhaps this gives a clue as to why - if there is one overall sway factor - I feel that real affinity with the analogue equipment and skills when I am “up there and out there”.

Nostalgia for a simpler time - one that I never really experienced if the truth be told, as I am a relative latecomer to this pastime? Perhaps that is a factor.

But I feel genuinely that, for me, there is something more elemental, almost primordial in the act of holding out the compass, the divining rod of direction; that simple but almost miraculous, naturally calibrated contraption of plastic, metal and liquid ; moving and correcting in response to that mysterious energy radiating from the core of the earth which can never be questioned, and never escaped.

It’s always there, no batteries or man-made signal required. Guiding the user unfailingly and reliably.

And in perfect partnership with a simple piece of paper carrying symbols and hand-drawn representations created by people from earlier times, getting me there.

To the place those first ever mapmakers also found their own way to all those years ago; and no doubt etched on a flat stone or somesuch thing, a simple iconic representation to be followed by their contemporaries, and after them their progeny.

Those first men who went to the top of a hill to establish a lookout point to be better prepared for raids from neighbouring tribes, or to find a faster route to natural resources like wood or rivers, or just because it was there. In the satisfaction of that common trait of humans and all sentient animals : plain old curiosity.

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A Ghost Story

Several years ago I came across another reason that men in ancient times would have valued these high points in their landscape. Something beyond the practical and prosaic, but still not definitively identified in lore nor in writings.

It happened, fittingly enough, on a remote mountain top.

There is a hill in County Mayo, part of the ancient Irish Kingdom of Connacht, called Slieve Carr (or Corrsliabh in Irish). It stands in the largest area of untracked bogland in the whole of Western Europe, and is thus several miles from the nearest road or even path of any significance.

Slieve Carr is known as the most remote mountain in Ireland for this reason. But when I climbed it one warm September day a couple of years back, I experienced not only a feeling of physical or geographical remoteness, but also something else, upon finally reaching the summit and being greeted by the unexpected sight of by far the largest summit cairn (rock marker) that I had ever seen. In fact, I wasn’t relishing the prospect of having to negotiate this final 20 or so feet of rock structure to actually “touch top” after a sweltering four-hour slog to get this far!

I was only dimly aware of this very large cairn having some significance, but was taken aback at the sheer size, when every other cairn I have come across has been at most a few feet high, constructed often in recent decades as hillwalking has become a much more common pastime in relation to previous decades, leisure time and transport options increased and suitable equipment became affordable to the masses.

Prior to that, a summit cairn would most likely have served as a marker for people tending and moving livestock in adverse weather conditions with poor visibility.

As I gathered my breath and thoughts, having achieved a bit of a personal milestone, I drank in the silence and the panoramic views of the whole of the sizeable wilderness of north Mayo. But I was conscious of something else present that I couldn’t identify and just sensed, and was absorbing in that time and space.

Anyway, I had a very long walk back out to the small farmstead where my car was parked, so I had to press on. But when I managed to find more information on this mysterious structure, I was not shocked to find that it is strongly believed to be an ancient burial monument to a King of Connacht called Daithí, who reigned in the 5th century. It’s reasonable to assume he was probably interred there.

Was this perhaps what I was sensing on that hilltop? Was this one of those “thin places” where evanescent, incorporeal spectres of centuries past seem to become fleetingly tangible, or even present the merest shadows of themselves for seconds or unmeasured minutes, and are then gone; retreating to their own realm, to slumber again beside their High King Daithi ?

Fanciful maybe [or pretentious guff maybe - ed.]. Or perhaps it was just the cramp-inducing dehydration playing mind games. To be sure, the thigh cramps did kick in shortly after that point. But I clearly recall a strange but calm reassurance that I felt; a sort of continuity is the only way I can verbalise it, as if I knew this place already.

So…… the point of that anecdote was a roundabout way of describing or trying to communicate that feeling which just occasionally and suddenly occurs. That I am traversing the same, unchanged rock, turf and stream and seeing, feeling and smelling the same things they did ; in the hidden dimensions that seem to inhabit those remote reaches of ravens and high corries, cascading water courses and imperious pinnacles.

That other world of thin places.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you found something of interest whether you are an outdoors type or not. If you did, why not hit that “like” symbol, and of course a “share” or re-stack would be even better if you know someone who might enjoy the piece.

I didn’t start writing this with any real idea of where it would go, so unsurprisingly I haven’t got any solid conclusions on the question posed at the top. For me, both old-fashioned analogue and modern digital methods and equipment have benefits and weaknesses in some respects. But it’s not always easy to quantify those relative qualities.

In essence, I would say that anyone heading out to the hills or remote country should be equipped with at least two of : mobile phone and map technology; map and compass; fully-featured GPS device.

In addition, I would urge readers of an outdoors bent, but who are unfamiliar with the manual method, to take some time and watch one of the many how-to videos online, followed up by a day out there just practising those lessons in an unfamiliar place.

It doesn’t have to be remote of course, just new to you so that no mental short-cuts are available. And I am sure you will find it both satisfying and even fun.

Happy Trails.

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