AH SURE AZURE

Category: Sightseeing Ireland

  • Every Twentyfourhours

    Every Twentyfourhours

    Today is the first day of my trip by caravan to Europe.

    My dream is to make it to Corfu via the ferry from Bari on Italy’s East Coast.

    This took shape during the last year of my job when I printed out the map of Europe with the route to Corfu overland, highlighted it, and pinned it on the partition above my desk.

    It crystallised in the last days of June when I realised I still had a burning desire to see Corfu again and my challenge was to make it overland. The original idea was to do it in a campervan, but my funds did not reach to that expense. When I bought a BMW with a towbar my attention shifted to a caravan. My first caravan was a disaster, dry rot, broken everything and I abandoned it with a dealer on my way to Dublin.

    By this time, I had experienced some of the angst of towing a 1,500 kg van. But anyone who knows me is familiar with my determination once an idea takes root in my head. I took to watching every video available to learn how to drive with a load behind you. I had  a lesson from one caravan expert in the middle area of Ireland who clearly became worried when he realised I would be venturing out alone without the benefit of the male of the species to watch over me.

    Since then, Newbridge caravans have spoilt me with a beautiful vehicle and given me hints and direction all along the way. This time, I splashed out on a 2000 Herald Claremont, four berth, luxury in comparison with the last one.

    Why Corfu?  The island’s lush greenery, brought to life for me as a child in My Family and Other Animals  by Gerald Durrell, the sandy beaches and deserted coves, the olive trees and the azure sea.

    I have learned that women do not tow caravans. We will see how that goes.

    I want to set the scene for my forthcoming trip with today’s blog. I am not taking any pictures of the ferry pulling out from Rosslare. As we are in the middle of a heatwave the likes of which I have never experienced, you can take it the sea is still and sparkling and the sun is sinking and sort of hazy as it is the 2030 sailing. One of the remarkable things about driving through Ireland today was the smell of smoke in the air. Spontaneous fires are breaking out due to the 14 days with no rain.

    But most of all with today’s blog, I want to remember someone never made it to Italy. We visited the Cliffs of Moher together and I have posted his profile here taken at that location. He departed this life on the 4th June this year and it is his departure that crystallised my decision to do this trip. We  never know when or where we will be taken, but taken we will be.

  • Sands of Time

    Sands of Time

    The sun enticed me to the beach today.

    A privilege of country living is being able to capture moments like this. The rippling of the waves brings peace.

    I thought of Keats’ wonderful lines:

    Oh, ye! who have your eyeballs vexed and tired, 
        Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea; 
            Oh ye! whose ears are dinned with uproar rude, 
        Or fed too much with cloying melody— 
            Sit ye near some old Cavern’s Mouth and brood, 
    Until ye start, as if the sea nymphs quired! 

    Nature has a powerful way of allowing you to connect with yourself and what is really going on inside.

    Now I didn’t come across any sea nymphs or anything but I thought of my sister who left us four years ago on this day. The sea still comes in and out and always will long after we are gone. It leaves marks on the sand that are gone the next time the tide comes in. I suppose this is what they mean by the sands of time. Always shifting but never disappearing. When someone you love is taken away, other things you love still remain such as the sea, sun and fresh air.

    I thought of Neptune the God of the Sea – even he cannot hold the tide back. Last night I went to see the Justice League, a movie featuring Superheroes where there was an awesome pale blue eyed Neptune, complete with Trident. He managed to hold back a few floods in order to ‘save the world’ but even he was pushed back eventually.

    I have a metaphor for my efforts to change my career. Its from Castaway with Tom Hanks. There is a coral reef about 200 metres out from the beach that he has to get past before he can paddle out into the wide ocean. The waves break on it continually and he has wounded himself on the sharp coral many times. He spends his days devising methods to get himself past the reef, designing rafts and failing time and again. Eventually he uses an old piece of corrugated plastic that washed up on the beach and puts a makeshift sail on it. The wind in the sail gives him enough momentum to get beyond the reef, allowing him to journey back to civilisation.

    The wind in my sails has been my friends offering me a country retreat while I paddle past the rocks of convention so I can start forging a new way of life.

    It has been exciting so far but I hope I don’t have to get picked up by a liner in order to make it wherever I am going. I am going ahead with a mind ‘open to everything and attached to nothing’ – thank you Wayne Dyer.

    DSC_0720

    Not  exactly a Coral Reef but what sun on a Winter’s day.

    DSC_0728

    Patterns left from the ebb and flow of the sea.

    DSC_0732

    Bright winter sunshine on the wet sand.

  • Sparkling Dungarven

    Sparkling Dungarven

    On the plus side of life in the country is the bright lights and on the negative side is the intense dark. How is this contradiction possible?

    My local town Dungarven has the most remarkable display of Christmas lights. No matter what direction you approach it from – an illuminated Angel strung across the main street bugling you into the town or and enormous Lighted Santa Bear across from the Supervalu.IMG_4217

    The park has an illuminated swan and swishes of lights enticillant (I think is how the French describe the Eiffel tower when it twinkiles up and down) the trees under which a group of adults are led through a routine of pressups and warmups.(war mups?)

    IMG_4219But the dark? Oh yes. It comes at about 5pm these days which is why the lights work. It is an intense dark, not the dirty light we get in Dublin.

    On clear nights we are compensated by the spectacular stars. On ordinary nights with the cloud cover I am convinced there is a glow in the sky over Dungarven from the lights that was not there before.

    Driving in the dark is not my idea of fun.

    Why I picked up a total stranger last night holding a red can for petrol I do not know. But I did and brought him to the nearest petrol station which was 5 km away. He was a simple type honest looking man with a stubbled chin and big eyes. He left his car with the hazards on at the side of the road. When we got back to it I noticed a passenger. ‘ thats my wife’ he told me. ‘ she is very nervous’.

    I opened the boot so he could get out the red can of petrol and I wondered where they were going where they lived and a thousand other questions. They faded into the intense darkness, my curiosity unsated ( if thats a word). He did seem to know a lot about cars.

    Another six weeks until we reach the shortest day and then another six weeks until its as long as it is today. But can Spring be far behind?