In Reply to: oasis by the track posted by Oliver Killeen on July 29, 2009 at 02:36:28:

a cara..............once upon a good time ....when wishing was having.....the whitsun sun had awakened the joys of summer....and alerted us on the road to the beauty of our oasis by the track......as i let my drift back to that time ....many happenings ago......i recall the last time i saw my lake it was but a shadow of its former self.....ah! the old jewel was drained of its beauty.....oh the old swimmin' hole.....when i last saw the place.....the scenes were all changed ....like the change in my face......the bridge of the railroad now crosses th spot......where the old diving rocks lay sunk and forgot.....how i think of the old pile of diving rock ....and wonder what tales these stones hold of the days of summer in those days of yore......but then i drifted to the gang gathering at my gate........and the decision we had to make......which way we would go the lake.....we had three established routes....cross the field behind murrays shop and ryans......{i can't remember who owned that field....but i do remember the castlebar harriers having a meet there ...this was a big occassion because the castlebar pipe band ....with paddy rainsford....and sonny guthrie on the base drum leading a parade....}......an other route was to walk up to the station and go under the railings at jennings field and walk down our time trodden trail through the whins .....and sheep.....but our most used route was to go to the station climb under the farings at the end of the bridge.....and walk down the trails we carved on the narrow strip of hill grass and bush that lay on the side of the tracks....our imaginations ran with us here for often we would play cowboys and indians on the trail....using the bushes and whins as hiding spots........

...on this occasion we decided to go use the trail by the track.....this patch of ground narrowed out by an old signal box......now we walked the track......the big thing was to be able to step to the sleepers.....and not bang our ankle bones on the solid iron track......in those days .....the days of steam the engines were fired by coal ....and often along the track we'd find coal nuggets......and keep them .....coal in our home fires and ranges was not common....as we relied on turf and logs.....we walked along the track hurriedly......until we came to the opening of the lake....we climbed down a rustic old brdge the alowed a stream run under the railroad....just down from that ....was what we said was a natural well.....here we drank its clear...cool ...fresh water.....this "spring"....was sacred to us ....and vowed no one was to violate it....by taking a leak in it.....now we made our way to the power house......we'd look out on the lake...and see our swans.....hanging close to the island...we knew there might be eggs on the island.......as we all sat on the concrete "path" which really covered the pipes that went to the lake...other friends would join us brian and norman wilson.....mickey lacey....and his sisters mercy and katherine......tommy and billy lacey would often be there as they were the masters of the power house .....at last we decided to take a dip.....no swimming trunks......we used old short pants.....and if we didnt have those the short pants we were wearing ....for those that changed there was always discretion ....changing was done behind whin bushes......we now made our way to the waters edge.......walking very carefully on the shores rocks and stones ....which were often razor sharp.....we made our way to the top of our diving rocks.....barely visible yet as the water levels were still usually high ......no sissy stuff here.....no splashing water over the chest and shoulders ......it was show time ....so dive ......i can still see tatto corcorans ....belly flop......and his hands paddling a mile a minute to keep a float......one by one each of us that swam mounted the rocks ....and dived in......we were all masters of the dog paddle.....no fancy butterfly or crawl strokes here ....although we all claimed mastery....of these strokes....we swam and dared each other to see who could stay under the water the longest......we savoured every minute in the water.....and then ....we would make our way in ........we would lay on the grass or the concrete path to bask in the sun....not too many towels....some of us more daring types ....would sun bathe on top of the power house...this was no mean feat as the only help was the light pole that stood at the side of the concrete building.....we,'d climb up ......and showed off our skills and bravado to those that wouldnt take the challenge....we' d gage over the girls swimming in the "swimming pool.....as we were all adolescent.....we were curious...if you know what i mean.....the girls wore no fancy bathing suits either .....just their underwear.....but all was innocent ....and discreet......one of the games played was hiding their clothes whilst they swam......we never had any urgency to leave our lake.......a regular swimmer at the lake was george fair snr.....an accomplished swimmer....george usually entered the water at the place where the pump pipe entered the water....george a big man....with his strong ...hairy chest.... would push out from the pipe like a submarine.....then he would swim effortlessly to the point at blaines field.....and back....and back again.....i wished to swim like george ...sadly a feat i never succeeded...although i am a water rat.....for those of us who brought a second pair of pants with us to the lake we usually hung the wet ones on the whins to dry.....and would leave them there for our next day.....here some of the boys tried their first puffs of woodbines......not for me...i never tried and wondered why those that did continued to do so after their severe coughing and snorting bouts.....i remember i regularly got american comics from my aunt and cousins in toronto......i always had a collection of archie comics ...and enjoyed the adventures of archie ....jughead...and veronica.....i hadbatman comics ...as well as flash gordon......and joe palooka.......so i would bring some up to the lake.......jimmy madden offered me 4 woodbines for 4 comics ...my gang got me to make the trade......they split the ciggarettes up and had their smoke attack....i made a decision smoking was not for me...i never tried .....and thankfully my lungs only suffered from second hand smoke ......whilst up we relaxed and fellowed by the lake often we would look around the bushes for birds nests....and maybe another dip......from our perches by the lake we would look across at the reek......and langstons hilland wathch the signal warn us that a train was making its way.....i remember one day in the summers of then laying on the grass ....eyes closed.....basking in the sun.... afew of the boys...played a game.....they held me down whilst nelly flynn pulled my shorts down exposing my pubescence.....a little embarrassed and angry at the time......but it blew over for for after all tarzan was jungelous and untamed.....we often waited until the sun moved to the far west.....red and blazen.......but with the notice it was now ready to sink below the horrizon...it began to invite a blanket of mist ....which created a sense of calm and solitude....solitude gives rise to what is original...to what is daringly and displeasingly beautiful.....to poetry...in this solitude our spirits walk....and as the sun began to set behind the reek and clew bay.....we began to make our way home......and perhaps later come back to blaines field ...cross the old rustic wooden bridge.....and fish for the perch......and so we walked the track.....and re echoed our great day in our oasis.....but the lost last joys are past......let our tears in sorrow roll.....like the rain that used to dance on our old swimming hole.....

many of my friends from that golden time are now in the oasis in paradise.....great joys like grief ....are silent......

......amarach sceil eile.......

..........anois....tog go bog e ......