Ropework

About six months ago there was slight landslip above steep road that joins Upper and Lower Fishguard. That side of the road has been fenced off until recently when the Dept. of Transport threatened the council with court action if work was not carried out to make the area safe. Since then all the vegetation on the steep hillside (including trees, bushes and undergrowth) has been stripped off and the entire surface layer of loose soil and stones has been removed right down to the underlying almost-vertical rockface. All the work has been done by men dangling on ropes. It looked more dramatic in the early stages when they hacking and wrenching at stumps and roots higher up but every time I saw them doing it I was in a bus or car and could not stop and when I was on foot they were never working.

Now the job has reached the stage where the entire escarpment has been covered with netting but today when I finally got there with my camera there were only two roped men doing something with funnels (injecting cement to secure the fastenings they explained.)

I think the reason I've found the ropework so fascinating was because of two historical associations it has for me.
In King Lear, Shakespeare has Edgar telling Gloucester what he can see from the top of the high sea cliffs:
How fearful
And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire--dreadful trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head

Rock samphire is an edible coastal plant, often growing inaccessibly save to roped foragers who once risked their lives to collect it for sale in the London markets. (It's not the same as marsh samphire which is still sold by fishmongers)

Then again, I'm reminded of the hazardous livelihood of the erstwhile inhabitants of St. Kilda, a bleak and isolated island off the west coast of Scotland. Their main source of nourishment was seabirds and their eggs, harvested at great risk by abseiling down the cliffs on ropes made from cow hide. Many lives were lost in so doing. The island was eventually abandoned, life being just too hard.

Nothing quite so dramatic is going on here with this Industrial Rope Access - no lives being risked for samphire or seabirds.
In fact when I marveled 'What a skilled job you do!' one of them replied 'Not really, we're just semi-trained apes'.

A wider view of the whole enterprise here in my blipfolio.
More about St Kilda here.

I'm finding it impossible to keep up with comments at present and I am well aware that I am neglecting many of my favourite journals - I am sorry. The longer the days the more stuff needs to be packed into them. I'm so grateful for the continued attention when my response is so inadequate.