23 may 06

Greetings,

Tom and Stacie are in Killybegs, a port city in southern Donegal. They speak Gaelic now, in a sudden transformation of language magic. Did you know Gaelic is the only European language that is both a national language and also a minority language? Yes.

They will head west to the small village of Carrick and climb Slieve League at 1,972 feet. It is the tallest sheer cliff in Europe.

Many years ago, while working in Dublin and staying at the Youth Hostel in Carrick over Christmas, one afternoon I hiked three miles toward the Tillin pier near the sea under clear sky along the Glen River crashing, falling over boulders to meet the Owenee River near a stone bridge.

Down the road keeping pace with the Rustkin inlet. Sheep in fields, brown and white snow patches, thatched cottages, Slieve League snow mountain, sky, rivers, remnants of stone homes, gurgling streams in ditches, opening river wide mud flats the home of seagulls; those on land, others practicing aerial dynamics in wind. Fishing boats drawn up to dock, resting above mud flats, the sweep and curve of foothills leading back to Carrick.

A long hard climb through muddy fields approaching sunset, past abandoned buildings then a final assault through brown hills. The peak offered a fantastic view of the Atlantic along sheer slate cliffs. The sun poured into horizon’s gray clouds, distant islands covered in gray mist with a crescent moon in blue sky as birds arched winging above waves.

Peace.

(Editor's note: an extended version is filed in Journal and STC novel excerpts)