Wednesday, 26th
September, 2012
Coumeenole, Kerry
The waves didn’t pick up
above 2’ either last night or this morning and after such amazing surf at
Easkey I am in no rush to don a damp wetsuit. Maybe later, although the rest is
doing me good, at least that is what I tell myself.
The final paddle out at
Easkey left was fraught with aches and pains. I need to build on my stamina
when I get home. It’s tempting to leave this beautiful spot to search out a ride-able
wave but just looking at the clouds tells me it’s going to be strong on-shores
around Brandon Bay. So for now I guess we will have to wait and see.
It’s amazing how many lovely
people we meet whilst travelling, if you are open.
A brief hello can lead to a
conversation that lasts more than an hour. We have just met Henk and he has
told us the most amazing stories from his life. He reminded me of Miller’s
Katsimbalis, truly amazing. For me I just had to listen. I love to listen to
people who love to talk, if they have something to say.
You can meet someone for a
little over an hour, an hour in comparison to a lifetime and that person can
have such an effect on your life.
Allthough I have photographed
most people in context to their vans and Henk’s as interesting, I felt the
ocean fitted him more. The ocean has been his life.
Still people arrive in ones, twos and threes or more. They come to gaze
upon this idyllic landscape, take a picture and leave. Their pilgrimage along
the Dingle Way
is for what? To see it you have to stay, to experience the wind, clouds and
light as it plays its tune along this majestic setting. Whilst I see this
beauty I also see the nooks and crannies, the spent take-away coffee cups
resting lazily on the beach. What a beautiful beach they say stepping over the
cup. I want to photograph this place, to gaze upon its historical beauty but I
cannot because I know that alongside this ancient place lies our indexical
footprint, the sign of modernity, the detritus of human existence, progress.
In a hundred years they will
come to look at the Bee Hive huts, the ancient forts and the spent take-away
coffee cups.
People travel for different reasons.
Some and probably most judging by the numbers here come to see Ireland although they do not see Ireland or
anywhere in my mind. Others like me come to surf and with them often come loved
ones in support but also to see and experience a sense of place. Others like
Henk come to see the ocean from the land. In storms at sea he felt alive
wanting to play the piano and sing in monstrous seas as his cargo ship moved
with the rhythm of the storm. Now he hopes to see the ocean breaking on to the
cliffs from the land. He is hoping for a huge storm to hit the Cliffs of Moher,
to be amongst the elements, to feel alive. With the thought of this I mimic
him, kiss my fingers and thumbs and salute the air, “beautiful”, I say to
myself.
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Copyright Mark King 2012
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