THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 20
THE RED TRAIL
Our big walk for the day was the Red Trail. From Fiona’s house, it starts on the far side of the lake, then rises up a steep hill, steeper than the climb to Union Hall, passing many farms, few people, a couple of aggressive dogs, lots of of stone walls, and plenty of black and white cows. We ran into one nice woman who said “Hello.” When the trail hits it’s plateau, fields spread out like massive green carpets, from which there is a view of the ocean weaving into the broken coastline.
It was a misty day. The water slowly accumulated on our faces, hair, jeans, and sneakers, until we were soaked through. The moisture created a soft focus of this already soft landscape, making it all the more beautiful.
Few people were around during the day. Most everyone had gone to a funeral in Dublin. Chloe told me that Fiona said there were lots of funerals here, which struck me as odd given the small population. Later we found an article written by an Irish journalist describing the funeral of a woman who lived across the street from him. He didn’t really know the woman, he wrote, but that didn’t matter. When it comes to a funeral, everyone shows up as a way of supporting the grieving family and acknowledging community.
Eventually the Red Trail dropped into a road leading to Union Hall. We turned to skirt the lake again on the way home. It was a hefty, eight kilometre walk. We passed three men digging in the road, presumably working on a broken pipe, as we neared home.
“Are they brothers?” asked Chloe. She has a bizarre idea that I can answer questions like this. “More Cormacs,” I said.
LUCK OF THE IRISH
I’d been out three times during the day. The morning walk, a walk to get phone reception and then our long afternoon walk. So when I went out again in the evening to go to Mary’s house, I was chilled through and not looking forward to it. But it had be done.
The gas ran out on the stove, and we had no idea what to do. I was hoping Mary or her husband would be home to help.
Already twice during the day, I’d bumped into a man who was out repairing water service to several houses nearby. The first time I saw him, he waved from his car, which is customary even if you are in your car driving by. He’d leaned out his window to ask if we had water at Fiona’s.
He was out again, just like me and Saffi, and pulled over to see if we were okay. It’s not that strange to pull over in these parts, given that it is usually just you and the one car, and no one else for miles. I said we had water but our gas wasn’t working, and I didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t say anything about the gas at first, instead he said, “You should let the dog stay home. You are going to walk him to death.” Is that possible? I think Chloe may think the same…not about Saffi but about her.
As I moved away from his car window, I looked up and saw the largest rainbow I’ve ever seen. And it wasn’t just large, it had two perfect end points, visibly (or should I say invisibly) touching the earth. I’ve never seen that before. Makes one ponder the phrase…the luck of the Irish.
“Look at that rainbow,” I exclaimed. The repair man ignored me. “Look,” I said again, with even more enthusiasm. He shrugged, and all I could think was that he didn’t care or, even more strange, rainbows like this aren’t unusual to him.
“I can help with the gas,” he said. “I’ll meet you back at Fiona’s house,” and he drove away. Saffi and I ran after him, expending my last bit of energy.
Turns out all you have to do is unhook the empty gas canister and hook up the full one. A bit embarrassing.
WORRY
My last thought of the day…worry. London is costing $1,000 for 10 days, and we most certainly can’t afford that long term. But we’re okay so far. Hang on, I tell myself.
