local warming

Here’s the thing – I think a lot about global warming. It’s something I feel is very important. However, up until yesterday anyway, it’s all been a bit virtual for me. I’ve watched reports on the long term effects, seen maps of England with East Anglia submerged, listened to accounts from Inuit communities whose lives are being directly effected, I’ve been horrified by the suffering caused by natural disasters – but it’s all been so far away (either in time or space.) As far as the right here, right now is concerned all I’ve noticed is a distinct lack of snow and a bit more rainfall. Not overly immediate.

Not until yesterday that is.It was a news story towards the end of the report on five live (on AM, FM, online at BBC.co.uk, digital radio, freeview, sky, virgin media, and tapped out in Morse Code on your water pipes) about how the Giants Causeway was at risk of being swept away due to climate change. The Giant’s Causeway? Swept away? That’s a bit major – and it’s happening less than ten miles away. Apparently within fifty years Ireland’s most famous basalt stones could have been removed by stronger than usual wave and tidal action brought on by global warming. For the vast majority of the world’s population this news would be but a mild tickle in the back of the throat – but for those of us who’ve grown up in this area, who’ve taken for granted that fact that we live right beside a world heritage site, who’ve used the old GC as a sole source of bragging rights… this is earth shattering – literally.

The iconic world heritage site, one of the province's biggest tourist attractions, will be under threat if sea levels rise and storms worsen, said the National Trust conservation organisation, which owns and manages the site. The report warned that the site was at risk from coastal erosion and flooding over this century.

I love the Giant’s Causeway. It’s a special place. The stones that project into the North Sea don’t actually do it for me – although that’s what brings the tourists. I love the feel of the place, the way the breeze tries to throw you off the cliff, the way the sun wets over the ocean, the way everything looks like an amazing photograph. When I go walking up there with friends who don’t live in the area they are always amused that I greet everyone I pass – local or tourist. They can’t get over the fact that someone so moody and reserved is so friendly when on the cliff walk. I tell them it’s an unofficial tourist board ruling, that we have to project the stereotypical Irish personality so that the Americans will go home and tell everyone how friendly we are. I tell them that but really I just feel better when I’m breathing the fresh air surrounded by glorious creation. When I feel better I feel friendlier – I want to share the joy.

The idea of that ceasing to exist within my possible lifetime is an incredible, terrible thing. I would be sullen and miserable all the time, and you wouldn’t like me when I’m sullen and miserable.