Ballinagoth

Today I heard a song

It carried me back home to Ireland. I was driving through a pedestrian area in Paris when I heard someone whistling a tune from home which was one of my party pieces fado fado. The Rose of Mooncoin is the anthem song of Co. Kilkenny and every Kilkenny hurling supporter knows it well and sings it with great passion, especially in Croke park on all Ireland day. I traveled back to Ballinagoth where I passed many happy and quiet days in the valley of the Nore river

A beautiful Cornish wedding

Cornwall and it's rugged coastline, sheer cliffs, enchanting fishing ports and rolling hills made an inspiring backdrop to this lovely wedding. As a wedding photographer who has been blessed to shoot weddings in Asia, USA and all over Europe this one holds special memories for me. It was family.

Yotube link

google98a5747ca26ffcfa.html

Kachin peoples Burma/Myanmar

Burma November 2007

It was my second trip to Burma and at that time Rangoon didn’t really interest

me photographically.  That has since changed.  Anyway I booked a flight from Rangoon to Myitkyna in Kachin state in the north of the country.  I don’t know

why but it doesn’t matter, I know everything happens for a reason. And it was a good one.

I liked the busy market town immediately.  It was humming with old cars, trucks and motorbikes all seemingly on their last legs. The Burmese are masters of keeping old vehicles on the road. On every street there was some kind of engine being dismantled or reassembled.  The locals were open and friendly and giggled shyly when I took their photos.

My hotel was on the main street. I didn’t find it, it found me. The owner who like most sat chewing bettle jumped up when he saw me and told me how lovely his hotel was. At that time lovely was not a word I used to describe Burmese hotels. Everything else in Burma can be described generally as lovely (my opinion}. I left my heart in Burma so my opinion is hugely biased.

The upshot, I stayed in his hotel which turned out to be very good in fact as Burmese hotels go.  I managed to procure a motorbike from the young manager in the hotel.

I was on my way!  It was and still is my fondest memory of Burma.  I got out into countryside and jungle and into villages the like of which I never imagined existed except in Hollywood movies.

The locals would run and hide as I arrived, the children were very afraid. I had been advised to bring pencils, pens and sweets {good advice}, and slowly the adults and children would emerge from behind their homes which were built of beautiful teak wood with banana leaf roofs.

I’m always struck by how different people look in photographs after a bond of trust has been formed. I don’t recognize them. It’s beautiful to see.

In Kachin state many people are roman catholic 40%, Baptist 44% having been converted by the British. The first mission building was built in 1868. The Kachin people took to the bible quickly because they believed it was the return of  their own lost scriptures.

As a photographer I also wanted to see the new hydroelectric station being built by the Chinese at Myitson. I did not know how bad the road would be. It was only 40 kms away yet it took me 2 hours to get there. Though of course I stopped for photos and also to stop my arms from shaking.

When I got there to the confluence of the Irrawaddy I noticed a large military presence and they noticed me. The confluence which is made up of the rivers Mali Hka and the N’Mai Hka flow down through a once densely forested area. The teak has been devastated for profit. The land revealing it’s rich ochre soil to the wide blue sky. A sad sight.

I took a boat over to the island and trekked for hours thru the thick jungle. I was ill equipped for such a trek and in hindsight completely crazy.  I had 2 cameras, flip flops and shorts. I woke up to my craziness on arriving in front of a thick spiders web and in the middle of it a huge spider. I have few phobias but guess which one I know I surely have? Yep that spider woke me the fuck up!

I backed up and changed course.  I began to feel lost and very tired having run out of water hours earlier a hint of panic started to set in. Luckily it wasn’t long after that I started to hear noises and realized I was getting close to the hydroelectric station. I was but so were the military, they were patrolling up and down the river. So once more I backed up and not so long after came across some boys hunting and trapping birds.

They laughed with fright or embarrassment but I guess from the look on my face they knew I was completely lost  and close to collapsing from dehydration. They signaled me to follow them and I did but at a much slower pace. We eventually came out of the jungle into a wide open space with some huts that made up a school.  The lady in charge had a baby in arms and greeted me warmly. She spoke some English and on noticing my lips stuck together she quickly scooped up a cup of water. I didn’t care at that moment about bacteria I drank with it dry instantly. And no I was not sick after it!

It was a long day. When I got back to Myitkyna it was dark and the road into town was thick with smoke from all the fires being lit in preparation for dinner, I thought I'd never find my way back to the hotel or that I’d hit or be hit by a car, truck or speeding motorbike. The beeping was non stop.

I stayed in Myitkyna for 6 days, everyday I went back to the same villages and sat down with them. They invited me into their homes, they fed me in so many more ways than with food.  We never spoke but we communicated and it was the most special time of my life. I didn’t want to leave.

Stallions of Haras du Pin in France

My wife on her antique bike always in front

Guided tour was really interesting

Last week-end I was invited to make a photo reportage at the grand national stud of France.

Once known as the Royal stud, Hara du Pin is  now the national stud.  My wife and I visited this majestic area last year and it was a pleasure to come back and work amongst my favourite animals. It also coincided with the fete de chasse which was also an eye opening experience.  We went to see the exhibition of Amerindian horse culture and life. It was an impressive display of paintings, photos, highly ornate headdresses and costumes and some fine statues which had been gathered from museums and private collections from all over the world.

How to get there? Take a train from gare Montparnasse 3 which is a long walk once you get into the gare. Be warned!

We got off at Argentan and finished the journey on bicycles. It was about 17 Kms and easy enough. even for me. The return is all downhill and a pleasure.

The surrounding landscape of lush green and rolling hills dotted with quaint villages (coffee stops) made the cycle less painful.

So if you need a break out of Paris and fancy some culture >

http://www.haras-national-du-pin.com/en/news/news/article/-b5e7292875.html

The Haras du Pin, the French National Stud founded in 1715 by decree of Louis XIV, is also known as "the Equestrian Versailles".  The superb estate and buildings bear witness to the respect in which man holds his "most noble conquest". The stables fan out in a horseshoe shape around the majestic courtyard, and house about forty breeding stallions of ten different races.

http://en.normandie-tourisme.fr/articles/haras-du-pin-384-2.html

http://www.haras-national-du-pin.com/en/le-haras-national-du-pin-se-devoile/history.html

Growing up with my unanchored father I ended up living in more places than I care to remember, never really knowing what's next.  In hindsight it was a great education, at the time it scared the shit out of me.

Now at 54 years of age I'm feeling nostalgic and regretful for the sale of a house that was never my home but a place of peace and a great escape from the oft crazy days of the life I once lived.

I found this place by chance over 30 years ago and it's charm and tranquillity seduced me instantly. Then some weeks later I hear that my father went, or had a friend go to an auction to do the bidding for him because my father wasn't a local.

Leonard Hayden
Ballinagoth

It's often like that.

It was Ballinagoth!

I was delighted if that's the right word to use, anyway I was chuffed maybe even jealous (though very unlikely) that my father had got this gem of a cottage.

Today it goes under the hammer, and perhaps that describes in an appropriate way the loss that I will feel when it's actually sold and no longer in the family.

As I said before we had many houses and they were just that, houses. They served a purpose and held no significant emotional attachment for me. Most I prefer to forget.

Ballinagoth was very different.

It had magic.

Ballinagoth: Town of the cots 

I spent less time in Ballinagoth than all the other houses yet I will miss it most. I will miss the sound of the stream that trickles by the boat when the tide is out, the hum of the bees in the trees and then the mornings incredible dawn chorus of what seems to be every bird in Ireland descending on our forest garden behind the cottage.

It's all that remains of my father. It was his paradise and refuge.

He called the pheasants and they came, he fed crows by hand and eventually he found that there was a place of peace.

Ballinagoth.

In front of the fire

I will still see the view

It's fitting that his old boat should still be there

Trying to look forward

I hope it goes to a good home

The salmon were disturbed but they'll be back

Great fun with two beds and two cousins