Wild At Heart

Ireland is truly a wild country, still. Its western edge is raw and dangerous and full of ancient, pre-medieval ruins, and likely ghosts. For example, on Omey Island, where we hiked to today, the rabbits are digging up human remains from that period. Archaeologists are beside themselves with glee.


To get to Omey, you have to hike across a tidal plain, and only at low tide. Your time on Omey, unless you really feel like swimming, or have a boat waiting, is limited to how long the tide will give you. As Dr. Gibbons told us as we walked across, time and tides wait for no man. So our pace on the island was grueling, but fascinating.



As we soon learned, we were quick, but not quick enough to avoid getting wet.



Still, to have experienced walking that island and seeing the rough coastline, and the waves, and the ruins, and the human bones in the sand, was completely worth the wet feet and sand between my toes. But, you all know how I love sand between my toes.

Kylemore Abbey, although impressive, paled in comparison to the tidal island and the first hand view we had of it. Still, many beautiful things to see there as well.



But, I'll admit; it was an emotional minefield for me at the Abbey, in fact, driving through most of that landscape. Back when I was 19, I worked with a little girl named Connemara. Multiple disabilities, including deaf/blind, and she died when she was 6. She was heavy on my heart as I walked the land that gave her such a beautiful name. I don't think it was coincidence that our group saw two rainbows within 20 minutes of entering the county.

Other thoughts on Connemara: the weather changed today quite literally every ten minutes. Come prepared. I also ate what may have been the best scones I've ever had in my life. American scones are shite.



Tired and thoughtful today. I should write some of my papers, but I may finish Joyce instead. Also course related, though, so I don't feel too badly.