{"id":17592,"date":"2017-04-16T05:47:44","date_gmt":"2017-04-16T10:47:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.howderfamily.com\/blog\/?p=17592"},"modified":"2022-01-06T08:18:25","modified_gmt":"2022-01-06T13:18:25","slug":"more-ladylike","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.howderfamily.com\/blog\/more-ladylike\/","title":{"rendered":"Even More Ladylike Places"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Most readers probably anticipated that after slogging through Manly Places<\/a>, Even More Manly Places<\/a>, and Ladylike Places<\/a>, that the next in this series would be Even More Ladylike Places. That seemed absolutely necessary in my mind to create symmetry and closure. However I’d written a variation on this theme already with the recently-published Ladysmith<\/a>. I tried to keep things on the more obscure side this time around, sidestepping better known ladies by design.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Ladies of the Reef<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\"lady<\/a>
Lady Elliot Island<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Australia’s Great Barrier Reef offered a case in point. I noticed a couple of different islands that fit this topic. Lady Musgrave Island (map<\/a>) took its name from the wife of a colonial administrator, Sir Anthony Musgrave. He served as governor of South Australia from 1873\u20131877 and then of Queensland 1883\u20131888. From those dates, Lady Musgrave must have been his second wife, Jeanie Lucinda Field<\/a>. I don’t know how she ended-up in Australia. She was born in New York City.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another spot along the reef became as Lady Elliot Island (map<\/a>). This one featured a convoluted derivation. Lady Elliot definitely existed although I don’t think she ever set foot in Australia. She married Sir Hugh Elliot<\/a>, governor of Madras, 1814\u20131820, then a crown colony on the Indian subcontinent. I’m going to go out on a limb and say she was probably Margaret Jones<\/a>, his second wife, because his first marriage ended in divorce long before his diplomatic career took off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

However, the name of Lady Elliot Island didn’t come from Lady Elliot directly. It came from the name of a ship. Captain Thomas Stuart, commanding a vessel registered in India and named for the lady in question, first spotted the island in 1816. Later, on the return voyage, the ship struck a reef farther up the coast. It sank and everyone died. That dangerous feature also got its name at that time, Lady Elliot Reef (map<\/a>).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The White Lady of Brandberg<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\"Namibia<\/a>
Brandberg Mountain’s White Lady<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Namibia’s highest point of elevation could be found at the K\u00f6nigstein (King’s Stone) on Brandberg Mountain. The mountain hid a secret though, the renowned White Lady<\/a>. Indigenous people, probably bushmen and probably living two or more thousand years ago, drew representations of their world in thousands of images. Much of their artwork survived in remote, dry, desolate corners of the Namib Desert (map<\/a>).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One image in particular caught the imagination of archaeologists and then tourists after its rediscovery in 1918. It showed what appeared to be a shaman in white, in an energetic ritual dance. Researchers noticed its similarity to depictions that came from Egypt and the Mediterranean during a similar time period, although that proved to be coincidental. Nonetheless the White Lady continued to captivate many who gazed upon her. Ironically, later interpretations seemed to demonstrate pretty conclusively that the lady was actually a man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Lady’s Island Lake<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\"Our<\/a>
Our Lady’s Island<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A little village in Ireland’s County Wexford got its unusual name, Our Lady’s Island, hundreds of years ago in reverence to the Virgin Mary. As the village explained<\/a>,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Tradition has always existed that Our Lady’s Island was founded by St Abban, nephew of St Ibar, in the sixth century and its reputation as a place of pilgrimage and of devotion to Our Lady was established by or before the year 600 A.D.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

However, I decided to focus on the lake (map<\/a>) where the little village — now connected to the mainland — grew and prospered. Perhaps not too creatively, it became Lady’s Island Lake. The lake more properly qualified as a “back-barrier seepage lagoon<\/a>.” Various sources on the Intertubes claimed only one other lake in Ireland fit that same definition. I couldn’t prove it so I’ll just leave it at that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The lake doesn’t have a natural outlet although water seeps into it from the ocean, creating brackish conditions. It offered a great environment for birds such as Sandwich Terns and Roseate Terns. Occasionally the barrier between sea and lake must be breached.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Breaching of the barrier, which has been carried out since at least the 17th century, is needed to relieve flooding of farmland and also the pilgrimage route around Lady’s Island. The cut is made in Spring when water levels are highest and the water level then falls until the lake becomes tidal for variable lengths of time. The practice has become contentious, however, because water levels sometimes fall too low, allowing predators to cross over the exposed bed of the lake to the important tern nesting sites.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I’m surprised they hadn’t figured out a way to accommodate both the birds and the pilgrims.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Dames<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
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