Gray and Green
Following my stay in Cong and short stopover in Galway, I made my way down to Cork, a sounthern port city. I won’t dwell there long. It was a warehouse and facotry type of place. Gray buildings and green waters. The highlight of my time there was a pub called Charlie’s with live music, where I sat with an old Irishman and talked about Canada and Ireland and all manner of things. I like to think that in every pub in Ireland is a live folk band and an Irishman at the bar to entertain me.
From there I went west, to Killarney. Oh Killarney. It’s the first place I have yet seen where I would return in a minute if I could. I numbed my legs walking the coutnry paths, over hill, through valley, past lakes and mountains, trees, large exciting formations of rocks, and everything wonderful. Large gray mountains rose up in ranges and dipped their toes in massive lakes, bordering large green fields and forests. Ruins of castles and monestaries border these hills and waters, built by peopole hundreds of years ago who wanted to situate themselves in the midst of such a beuatiful scene. I took a long walk one day to a point that is supposed to provide the most beuatifiul view of Killarney national park and took a long trail back over hilltops. I’m going to give you a bit from my journal on that trip. Skip over the stars if you don’t want to spend six years reading about nature.
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I followed a winding paved road, jumping back and forth across it’s lines to avoid passing cars, to reach the Ladies View, named such because Victoria’s ladies in waiting found it so stunning when they visited in 1861. Her ladies had taste. After over an hour on the road, I came to the viewpoint, where I could see many peaks descending into a collection of lakes and rivers, and far off in the distance was the town I had departed from.
From there I chose to follow a path back to town. I had no idea how long it would be. I expected it to be low and cut between the hills but I was quite wrong. The Old Road to Kenmare as, I think, it was called, crawled up many stone steps and paths, through dense mossy thickets of trees, to finally reach a small plateau between two rising peaks, high up into the mists at the height of the lower peaks. Here small streams flowed about in every direction beneath the long green and yellow grass that filled the flat area between the rocky walls of the hill. I walked along a path made of railway ties, lashed together, which seemed to go on and on high above the level of the lakes, which I now couldn’t see at all. The path of ties was broken up by collections of rocks which doubled as a bed for one of the trickling streams, and my feet were quite soaked. I was, however, able to fill my empty water bottle with water, fresh and ice cold, from its trip from the top of the mountain. I followed the path over a crest and down a small trail that ran next to a stream. The stream allowed a small thicket of trees to grow near it, but beyond these I could see a second field, much like the first. Along a natural rock wall at its edge there was a small green lawn next to a pool, which was being filled by a waterfall, some 15-20 feet high, gushing over the stones from the higher fields above. It was a beautiful place, serene and untouched, with the other mountain peaks rising up all around, and a profound quiet, so high above the world. The fields became more cut up by stones and shrubs as I moved out of the second plain, and I rose up and down small hills. Old forgotten stone fences lined the road, marking lost fields. In one of these forgotten places were set up many old stone mounds, built in a way similar to the walls around them. I don’t know what they marked, but they ran along the path for a few hundred yards, as it moved up and around small hills between the peaks. Eventually the path cut into a third, wide, field, bordered by three great mountain peaks which towered up into the fog. At one side it was open, and I could see out into valleys and towards greater mountains beyond, The path followed a low ledge along the edge of the smallest of its bordering peaks, winding back and forth under the mountain’s shadow. About a final corner around the mountain, I could see the beginning of dark green, covered in a heavy fog coming up from the lake. Rounding this corner, the path began to descend. Trees began to line the edges, and a rock wall with stone posts marked the sudden beginning of a dense forest. The path descended steeply as massive trees rose up on each side and I followed a river down into the fog of the green fields below.
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Hopefully that gives the area a little justice, and adds to the photos, which i don’t think capture the scope or the colour of what I saw there. The plains I found upon that mountain path are up there with the most beuatiful things I have seen in my time.
I think Killarney just about tops the places seen so far. It’s God’s seat; as close to heaven as I think I’ve glimpsed.
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