Ulster (Northern Ireland and Ireland) -- Description and travel
Beyond the houses and the limekiln and the glimpse of Sessiagh's
delusive waters (Heaven knows how many blank days I fished there!)
is a line of grassy hillocks--the mass of Horn Head blocks the view
beyond them to the west, but full north, suddenly, held in the curve
between two of these little summits, you catch sight of the Atlantic
blue. Blue, it may be, or purple, or greyish green, or black almost,
with white spray flying; but there it is, held as if in a cup--the
very quintessence of the saltness, the strength, and the freedom of
the sea. When the herring are in, you shall see it dotted over with
smacks and yawls, and here and there a curragh crawling slowly on the
water like some black insect; or at night all a-twinkle with lights,
till you rub your eyes and wonder if a town has not suddenly sprung
into being. And all about, the steep shores of the bay are patched
and striped with careful tillage, crops, well-tended, nestling in for
shelter under every rocky hummock; and nestled, too, into the folds of
the ground, are the white-fronted houses, with stone pegs across their
eaves for cording to lash the roof secure against their terrible gales.
It is worth while being there in bad weather, to watch the run of
sea on those cliffs; sometimes, in a sinister calm, rolling in
mountain-high, tearing itself to whiteness on the long black spines of
rock; and then, after this forerunner, comes the storm itself. It is
then, when you see the smacks running in for shelter, or when, after a
night of this, you see them put out to pick up costly nets that have
been cut adrift to save men's lives, and that still must be recovered
even at grave peril--it is then you will realize how these people take
a grip of their country and cling to the foothold for which all life
is a struggle.
Yet life goes merrily there. In the winter through some parishes there
will be dancing almost every night in one cottage or another, and the
crowd is thick on the floor and about the big turf fire.
[Illustration: MUCKISH AND ARDS FROM ROSAPENNA, SHEEPHAVEN, DONEGAL]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account