I dreamt last night that I was in heaven, rolling along celestial byways with Ms. Raleigh. At first we were among glowing pastel clouds, but as they dissipated I could see that Paradise was West Cork and we were cycling gently along her coastal boreens, going toward Drombeg Circle on our way to Glandore. St. Murph, Clonakilty’s venerable bike mechanic, remained floating on a nearby cloud surrounded by a clutter of tools, bicycles, and paraphernalia. He was speaking in tongues to an ardent group of followers. All the roads in Paradise are gently downhill.
Time passes and summer seems to be slipping away. I have a plan to cycle the new bike path from Westport to Achill, called The Great Western Greenway if you want to give it a Google. In the meantime, I’m still cycling around West Cork which remains as lovely and mysterious as she did a year ago. Maybe I am in Paradise and just haven’t yet clicked to it. If so, it’s an act of grace. I don’t deserve this beauty and wonder.
Meet Lady Jayne:
I christened my new, sleek Folbot Cooper Kayak a few days ago, naming her Jayne and paddling out into the cove at Dunnycove. The day was warm, the sea calm and Jayne fairly flew over the water. We poked around the kelp beds and inspected sea caves accessible only by water. To my delight Jayne paddles with ease backward and forward, cutting a clean line in either direction. Then, I saw a plastic beverage bottle bobbing near me and, obsessed as always by tidying, I leaned over to grab it and, doing so, discovered that Jayne can roll. Jayne christened me as I slipped from her cockpit into the chilly Celtic Sea. In the drink, I swam along with Jayne’s painter in my hand until a thoughtful father and daughter in a rowboat gave me a hand in the final 100 meters of my cold swim. I kept the bottle as a souvenir of our first paddle and reminder of my mortality.
Another Day:
Today I cycled over to Rosscarbery and along the way stopped at Red Strand. It was about 11:30 and the beach was empty except for a single family. Dad was waist deep in the shore break teaching two of the five children to surf. He’d push them along as a wave came and both, a boy and girl, were making the right connections. On the sand, Mom, three other kids, and three dogs were romping around with beach toys. I said a prayer for the lot of them; a lovely family.
The fuchsias are blooming and I’m happy to report that the honey bee population of Dunnycove prospers. When I step outside my door I can hear them working. Blackberries again line the lanes. I must find the time to pick some for freezing. I will, of course, eat them first. Why take chances on tomorrow?
