A while back now a small group of us wandered away from the cottages a hop, skip, and a jump to a nearby beach, named Old Head. For the last month or so I’ve been concentrating on trying to have these wild adventures with spectacular stories, and to only post here what I thought was “worth posting”. The consequence of this effort is that I almost missed the everyday charm of this beautiful place, and that’s really what I want all you fine people to get a sense of: the rustic character of rural Ireland. We, the small band of wanders, moseyed along the narrow road past the petrol station with backpacks full of supplies to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and various other snacks material in search of some quality time outside.
When we arrived at Old Head we stopped and sat on the edge of the pier for lunch. A slightly squished loaf of bread and broken plastic spoons did nothing to damper our spirits as the group of us offered the leftovers of our meal to the God of the Sea Poseidon hoping that he would be appeased and spare us the crashing waves of high tide. Climbing over rocks, investigating or “s’plunkin” the crevices in the hill we eventually made our way up to a grassy field overlooking the beach. Playing with a very kind sheep herding dog named Brandi Girl according to her tags, we laughed, shared stories, and just relaxed for awhile. The sound of the waves upon the beach, the sun in our faces, a gentle breeze tickling our faces, it was wonderful to be outside for the afternoon. We decided to explore a bit in the wooded area directly behind us, and we were lead, quite expertly I might add, by Brandi Girl. Patiently checking on us to see that we were all in line and following diligently she took us along a winding path, through gates, and eventually down to the beach again. Our spirits lifted, we made the trek back home with a new spring in our step to return to our normal routine of class and life at the cottage.
No comments:
Post a Comment