Last spotted in San Francisco, USA on March 28, 2003, 1:23 pm
Who is he? Where is he going? Where has he been? David Barrett / Quinthar
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Thanks to Silver, Jr (my trusty Nissan Micra), I was able to peer into the nooks and crannies and "get away from it all". This particular away was down a side street off a well-traveled circle route of the peninsula. I park Silver where the road jags right, climb over a barbed-wire fence and walk along the top of a long, very old rock wall keeping the quietly nibbling sheep to my left from falling off the perilous cliff to my right. The grass-topped wall continues for a long way up a gradual incline, and then turns left to follow the corner of the pasture. I hop off at the corner and continue toward the sea.
The grass is spongy, but dry, and covers the bumpy ground like a thick gymnast's mat. The hill curves down to a dangerous slope leading eventually to an even more dangerous cliff over jagged rocks, pounding against the incoming waves. Carefully I creep down as far as I dare, step by step, and find a knoll on which to sit.
The knoll is round and soft, and juts from the diagonal incline to give a fantastic view of the surrounding coast. Ahead looks east to the sea, across perhaps to the Canadian shore. To the far right the gently sloping hills fall into the sea as if surprised to find it, the endless sheep fields simply end with a crash of rock. The clouds, broken since the morning, highlight the immensity of the scene, their shadows drifting over the four-colored landscape of green, grey, white, and blue.
Beneath my seat is a view that captured my attention for a long while. My private cliff ends abruptly and falls to a group of sharp rocks. These rocks are protected from the initial onslaught of the waves by a small archipelago of boulders, tall enough to break all but the biggest waves. This creates a calm inlet where most waves cannot directly breach. The biggest, however, crash over the outer wall and pour through the broken rivulets to create an incredible amount of foam, as if the sea where brushing its teeth before my very eyes. The foam is flanked by the reserve waves, which rush into the inlet by routing the breakwall and dash in at an right angle to smash the foam against the wall at my feet. All this excitement fills the inlet beyond capacity, and once the water realizes this, it rushes back out to sea to await the next brave tidal wave to start anew.

On the way to Dingle, laden with a different hitchhiker, I pulled off the road to take in the view. The trouble with photography is that so much context is lost (for better or worse) and only the visual remains. For this picture, an almost overpowering wind poured off the sea and up the slope. But just a few steps away, the breeze arcs over the ridge and creates a pocket of stillness and quiet, in which sheep mill about and battle to tame the thick lush grass.
With nothing better to do I set off on a wandering drive with a French guy and German girl along the hilly coastline highway. He is seen here placing a forceful kiss onto her delicate cheek.
Between the chill breeze and overcast skies, raging water and stark cliffs, you're overcome with the need to just sit back and admire.

Copyright 2017 - David Barrett -