THE BRIDE WIG

The beginning of the end.

Hugh has given me some photos of the June walk which we were unable to go to. I have not edited the order of them in any way, so we seem to be starting at the end - Whitebridge - rather than the beginning of the walk, at Suidhe viewpoint.

I just wonder if this could be the theme of the blog - a day of opposites - starting at the end and things like that. I think I might be able to make something of this paradoxical beginning/end. 

Actually, I know that they stopped at Whitebridge, which was the end of the walk, so that they could see where they were going to go to once they got to where they were going to go from - the beginning of the walk.

The bridge, which paradoxically is not white, was built as part of General Wade's road network in 1732 at a cost of £150. The construction was probably supervised by Major William Caulfield, who, of course lived at Cradlehall, where a number of dinosaurs also live.

So, paradoxically, this Wade bridge was not built by General Wade.

Anyway, from the end of the walk, they eventually got to the beginning of the walk. They started at the fabulous viewpoint at Suidhe. 

Paradoxically, the view was somewhat limited by the weather. Even more paradoxically, they were all standing, when suidhe means to sit!

The walk was taking place at almost the day of the equinox - the height of summer one might think. Paradoxically, they were frozen, standing at the sitting summit.

This sign had been erected by the Glendoe Estate. One assumes the owners are well educated, but paradoxically, they have failed to use any punctuation in their sign. I wonder if this means that dogs not on short leads might get access to minced nesting birds?

A zig-zag path, where, paradoxically, you go along to go up or down.

I can only assume that, despite the cold, grey look of the photo, that it is, in fact warm. What possible other sane reason could there be for them all taking their clothes off?

Now that they have shed some clothes, the landscape has also been stripped bare of the flimsy film of mist and cloud to reveal itself in full glory.

No real paradox there, was there?

A path, but an obstacle, paradoxically preventing progress.

A thistle and some bracken. Paradoxically, bracken is an indicator of lost woodland. It covers huge swathes of the Highland landscape, a silent pointer to a different landscape that is now lost and diminished. The bracken is more harsh than the thistle, despite appearances.

Interestingly, Ian Abbot lived in Whitebridge until he died in a car crash near his home in 1989. He was a Scottish poet, who struggled endlessly to write and to make any kind of living from his writing. He compared his poetry to ferns, of which bracken is one.

" Carelessly fingered, every cowering stem

will strip you to the bone;

lay your soft hands open.

And innocently celebrate the spilling of your blood."

I leave it to you to decide whether to read any more of his work, but he clearly wanted the reader to take his writing seriously and not to carelessly finger it.

A treasure trove of trees set paradoxically beneath the shelter of the wood.

Striding along the path together, but apart.

A bridge.

Bridges have often been used to illustrate various philosophical paradoxes. (Are you still with me)?

One of the better known of these is Buridan's Bridge. Buridan was a Late Middle Ages philosopher who proposed a number of sophisms. Number 17 of these was a self-referential paradox. Be happy that I cannot adequately express what a self referencing paradox actually is - you can look it up on Google.

What Buridan proposed was that Socrates wanted to cross the bridge, but it was guarded by Plato. He would only let Socrates cross if the next thing he said was the truth. If Socrates lied, Plato would throw him into the water.

Socrates said - "You will throw me into the water."

This buggered Plato. He had promised to let Socrates cross if he told the truth, so throwing him in the water was not now an option. However, if he lets Socrates cross, that would mean that Socrates had lied when he said that Plato would throw him in the water. Basically, Socrates can only cross the bridge if he both could, and could not, cross the bridge.

Of course, Plato could just have let Socrates cross and then thrown him in the water, but that would be cheating.

Jimmy decided to avoid this paradox and walk across the river instead.

Jimmy had contemplated sophism 17 for some time and this was his answer.

A little frog in the grass. It was in Jimmy's hand just before the photo was taken according to Hugh.

This is useful in considering sophism 17. The riddle of the bridge depends upon what is true. Philosophers subsequent to Buridan got into all sorts of knots about truth. Essentially there is a school of thought that truth only exists at an instant in time. So Socrates' response was actually a future contingent that could be true or false depending upon what Plato decided to do. So, to say the frog is in Jimmy's hands was true, but then it became untrue.

It didn't help him get across the bridge, though.

After all this pointless philosophy, they sat down for lunch.

Talking of pointless philosophy, Hugh included this picture of some stones.

It looks like they will get across the bridge without any problem.

They did and continued on their way.

Dave appears to be on his own as the others leave him behind.

Paradoxically, someone had to be there to take the photo, so Dave is not as alone as he appears to be.

The Woodentops, people made of trees, leaning on a fence post made of wood, next to a wood made of trees. I suppose the paradox relates to the fact that the man-made objects would not exist without the natural objects. Everything man-made relies upon nature.

Nature being contemplated from a man-made structure by man and woman.

They were paradoxically nearing the beginning of their journey.

Nothing paradoxical about tea and cakes - although the Chinese are pretty good at raising tea making into some kind of mystical art. Jimmy appears to be a bit mystically inclined.

Paradoxically, or not, they seem to have had a good time despite us not being there.
Well done to Jimmy and Jacque for organising the walk and to Hugh for providing the photos, to which, paradoxically, my imaginings bear next to no relationship.
If you have read this far, well done. My editor and proof reader gave up at the Buridan bridge section.