My family’s ancestral homes are Scotland and England, but it’s Ireland, specifically Connemara, that remains deeply imbedded in my heart and memory.
I’ve only visited twice, and not since 1995, but I can still see the landscape – mountains, lakes and quaint villages of unparalleled beauty and solitude. And the most pristine beach (the Silver Strand) I’ve ever seen. Really.
And I can’t forget green.
Connemara is blanketed in green like you haven’t seen before, unless you’ve been there. Fields upon fields upon fields of deep green.
And I’m not a big fan of green, whether it’s vegetables (for the most part) or the Eagles or Jets. But this is a different green; it literally takes your breath away.
Ahhhh, but the west coast of Ireland: The only place I’ve been where I met no strangers; where I was lucky to be stuck in several traffic jams of farmers with their sheep crossing twisty, narrow roads; where the landscape swoops and soars endlessly with rivers, rocky cliffs and fields of peat; where the nighttime air is redolent with the sweet aroma of the same burning peat, where every hill, every glen, brings a new sense of timeless wonder and where time itself seems to have stood still for centuries; a place of vast and endless stretches of awe-inspiring splendor.
Whlle there I climbed Croagh Patrick, the highest peak in Ireland, on Reek Sunday, and it was deeply moving to be with thousands of pilgrims in an event that has been going on for some 1,500 years. This is the mountain where legend has it that St. Patrick climbed to the top and threw all the snakes out of Ireland.
I’ve long wanted to go with my family to see Connemara, to see one of the last unspoiled places on earth and share this experience.
Sadly, that will probably not happen, but maybe I will visit when I shall never grow so old again.
Strictly 100 – Number 1: Connemara
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