Ireland

Saltee Island: big adventure 2016

Sweet puffin looks at me with his wise grey eye. Another hour on the island and the boat will come to pick us up. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay there, on the edge of the cliff, and see what he sees.

The aquamarine blue water turns a shade darker.

There is a dark cloud coming from the East, and it means rain.

Before long it was raining lazily, and the raindrops sat on the puffin’s back and head, like diamond beads.

I have had a fabulous time and took many photographs. I photographed birds perched on the cliffs, and in flight, from the front and from behind, …

… single and in groups.

We even saw a family of partridges and a rabbit.

It is time to leave.

Enjoy this short video from Saltee Islands website .

We take the stairs down to the rocky shore, and walk along the water edge taking photographs of everything that lies around.

Huge thanks to the Neale family who have turned the islands into the bird sanctuary, and set up a shelter for those who might get stuck on the island overnight.

Our boat arrived with more photographers on board. This group will stay until the dark to take pictures of the sunset. The rubber dinghy is speeding towards the shore. It is also named after a bird. Guess which? A Puffin! 🙂

This is Declan Bates, the captain of An Crosan, The Razorbill. Last August Captain Bates spotted an overturned boat that capsized near Great Saltee Island. Ten people had been in water for five hours. They were rescued and taken by An Crosan to Kilmore Quay. Nine of them survived.

Thank you for the safe trip, captain!

I do hope you enjoyed this trip, extended over so many blog posts 🙂

Don’t lose connection with the beautiful things of the world. Everything else won’t last long.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Saltee Island: lost in the ferns

This young European Shag was a juvenile when I saw him last year, almost in the same place, and here is his mama and his new brother or sister. I recognized him because of his distinctive shyness, in opposite to his mama who is bold and ill-tempered 🙂

I have never seen a puffin chick. Something to look forward to.

All sorts of seagulls in the island also have chicks around this time. The parents are standing on the top of the rocks watching their young, ready to swoop and attack an intruder.

Four species of seagulls breed on Saltees. Herring gull is on the Irish Red List of the most threatened bird species. In the 1980s there were about 500 pairs on Great Saltee, and now just over 50 pairs. Good that they can live up to 30 years.

This Herring gull clearly enjoyed posing for a portrait.

Two species of the Black-backed seagulls are nesting on the island. We didn’t want to upset the male perched on the rock and took pictures of the chicks from a distance. This is a Greater Black-backed gull, one of the largest gulls in the world. In one of my previous blogs, I have pictures of this gull in flight.

Two fluffy Black-backed gull chicks enjoying the sun.

After leaving the Gannet colony I suggested that we should explore the north side of the island. It looked like a green meadow sprinkled with some white flowers. Off we went, and on our way we came across some nests with the eggs and the chicks wandering around. The eggs belong to different species of the gulls. Later I googled ‘seagull eggs’, and was shocked as all the pages that came up were related to cooking and eating these eggs!

Most of the seagulls lay three eggs. One must be stolen from the nest.

These are the eggs of a Great Black-backed gull. The pair of them is nesting in exactly the same place as last year. You can enlarge the picture to see the chick use its egg tooth to break through the egg shell. It might take 24 hours or even longer.

This speckled blue eggshell is quite big which means that it belongs to a seagull.

A chick is hiding in the weeds and playing dead.

After that, our detour took a bad turn, literally. We turned to the East and gradually entered the area covered with the ferns. In the beginning we managed to keep to the frail path but it led us nowhere. The seagulls hated us. Then the thorns and brambles came into the picture, and the path completely disappeared. My companions suggested that we keep moving along the coast no matter what, but the green sea of ferns might hide dangerous holes and who knows what else – I didn’t want to dive in it again.

We were right in the middle of the green area in the picture below. If you zoom it, you will see a stone wall crossing the island, with the seagulls perched on top of it. I suggested we walk to the wall, climb on it, and walk on top of the wall until we reach a surface free of vegetation. So we did. The wall wasn’t flat on top, of course. The rocks were sharp and slippy, I fell, and my backside stuck between the rocks like a keystone. If I were alone I would cry. Thankfully, I was lifted up and put on the straight and narrow again. After a while we reached the main path and thus escaped being consumed by ferns. Lesson learned – keep to the main path because there is no other.

Beautiful weather had changed and the drizzle started to thicken. Suddenly the dark clouds opened in the middle revealing a perfect rectangle. Was it some sort of a message?

Another surprise – two pairs of ringed pigeons. How did they make it to the island?

On our way to the boat we returned to the Puffin cliffs.

I just cannot stop taking pictures of puffins. This one came running – sweet, funny bird!

Thank you for sharing the dangers of this trip with me! The last blog about Saltee Islands is coming next Saturday!

Have a wonderful weekend!

Journeymen in Ireland, and much more

These young men are Benjamin and Simon, two German blacksmiths whom I met at the supermarket on my way home. They are journeymen, and their plan is to travel around the Atlantic coast and find work. They might stay in Ireland for a couple of months. If you meet them, please assist them with a lift or a place to stay over night. They have already slept outdoors, and they have no tent. I still feel bad because I did very little for them, but I met them right after I spent my only ten euros on groceries, and I had very little petrol left in the tank too. Otherwise I would drive them all the way to Youghal where they were heading to.

During our drive we had the chance for a chat, and later I read more about the Journeyman quest in the internet.

A journeyman is a skilled worker who has successfully completed an apprenticeship qualification in a trade or craft, and is considered competent and authorized to work in that field as a fully qualified employee. The word journeyman comes from the French word journée, which means a day, because traditionally the journeymen were paid daily. A 900 year old tradition is still alive – about 600 journeymen are on the road in Germany and abroad. They commit to travel for three years and one day and not to come within a radius of 50 km of their hometown during this time. The first year of the travels, the journeymen are usually working in a German speaking country. After that many of them travel around the world for the next two years.

This odyssey is called Walzmust, or the waltz, so they are known as journeymen on the waltz. During this time a journeyman perfects his craft, learns to organize his life and live in poverty. Three years on the road provide a wealth of experience and improve physical fitness. Journeyman is not allowed to carry much cash, use public transport and have a cell phone. Hitchhiking and walking is how he travels from place to place. All his personal belongings and working tools fit in Charlottenburger, a 80×80 cm wrapping cloth.

Every journeyman wears the Kluft that consists of a brimmed hat, collarless shirt, vest, jacket, bell-bottomed trousers and durable shoes. The color of the Kluft depends on the journeyman’s occupation – blacksmiths and goldsmiths wear blue. The buttons stand for the amount of working days and hours.

When they start out, the journeymen don’t wear ties. They earn the honor to wear the tie with their behavior. Also, they get an earring before the journey – back in old days it would pay for the funeral in case the journeyman dies. A wooden walking stick completes the outfit. It is made of a naturally twisted branch that the journeyman himself has to find and carve.

Each journeyman has a Travel Book where they collect stamps from the cities they visit, and their work evaluations. The guys asked me not to publish a photo of the book online. There is a page that says that the possessor of this traveling book is a trained artisan, that he took this road to get acquainted with the practices of work and the ways of living in other places, improve his knowledge of his trade and extend his experience of life. Also there is a request to assist him in his intention.

I find it amazing that these two men look like brothers even though they are not related, and came from different cities – Frankfurt and Munich. When people are doing something out of ordinary, when they belong to the brotherhood, the spiritual aspect of their quest shows on their face.

There are many amazing people with amazing skills who beautify our life with the work of their hands.

Ancient craft of basket weaving is one of the most widespread crafts in the world.

Woodworkers can craft everything from jewelry to weapons.

Hand-shaped pottery was in use 20 000- 30 000 years ago, and it is still popular these days.

This artisan uses both the wood and the clay for her creations.

There are thousands of things that could be crafted by a skilled artisan. A sauna hat, for example. It could be very useful. These are for wearing in saunas, not the steam rooms.

This monk is also a jewelry maker. He looks delighted that a pair of earrings is almost sold. A little girl is not impressed though 😉

Some people are a different type of artist. Because this man is an artist! And a sheep whisperer. You would say that if you saw his sheep shearing performance.

He starts with removing the belly wool.

The entire fleece is removed, and thrown clean side down in a matter of a few minutes. No sheep were harmed in the process.

It is honorable to work with your hands.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope this post encourages you to help a stranger, and to read more about traveling artisans.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Anne River meets the Ocean

This is my last blog post about Anne river. Here she is, on her final run to the Ocean. All the way from Dunhill, through the yellow Iris and Buttercup fields.

Her waters are so clear that I spotted a school of young fish feeding on something invisible.

Final destination – Annestown beach. It is where Anne River meets the Ocean.

First I climb the eastern edge of the cliff, but I don’t walk any further – I think this part is quite dangerous to walk.

I sit down in the soft grass and enjoy what I see. Thrift (Armeria maritima) is blooming in early June, and it is the most beautiful part of the scenery.

I cross the beach and walk to the western edge, where cliff walking is safer. I have taken many photographs but it is impossible to share everything in this blog. One of the little pleasures was taking photographs of many flowers I came across.

I found some big, sturdy daisies that looked a bit like the Seaside daisy but not exactly.

I also found a single flower of Gladiolus.

This is the view from the western edge. If you click on the photograph to enlarge it, you will see a stony structure in the end of the beach. It is the remains of a lime kiln. Limestone was heated there until it crumbled, and was then used for fertilising the land.

There are many magnificent rocks and cliffs and welcoming coves down there.

It is where I turned back: I didn’t like that crumbling sandy slope. It is the Ballydowane cove.

Back in Annestown, there are two donkeys – the most photographed donkeys in the area. I am not sure if they are the same donkeys I see every year – they must be not. Life of a donkey is harsh and unpredictable.

As I was talking to them and rubbing their ears and heads, I though about the generations of donkeys that have lived in this old paddock over the years, or may be, centuries. They have never seen beautiful Anne River valley that lies just a quarter of mile down the hill from them, with its lush grasses and clean, transparent waters.

Thank you for walking with me through these three blog posts along the Anne River!

Have a wonderful weekend!

Dunhill Castle and my failed geocaching

I think that Ireland is at her prettiest in May-June when the Hawthorn hedgerows are in fool bloom. They say that a lone Hawthorn is a Fairy tree. People tie ribbons to them asking blessings from the Good Folk – Sidhe. There is such a tree in the outskirts of Clonmel. It is seen in the photographs that were taken in the beginning of the 20th century, but when I saw it just a couple of years ago, new ribbons were tied to its branches, which means that the fairies still reside there and answer prayers.

Anne Valley is no different from the other places, all frothed with the white lace of hawthorn flowers.

Looking up something in Google, I came across a Geocache page where I learned that there is a cache at the dolmen near Dunhill village, and another one at the castle. I am not doing geocaching, but a couple of years ago our family came across a cache in the tree in Wasatch mountains. It was a fun surprise. I was going to take pictures of the dolmen anyway, because it stands close to Anne Valley, so why not to do some treasure hunting. I took a bead bracelet with me and drove to Dunhill.

It is the Ballynageeragh dolmen, restored in 1940 ‘by P. Murray and sons’, as the inscription states. The massive capstone rests on a wall constructed from building blocks. The original stone is missing. The dolmen looks lonely in the middle of the field.

I went around the dolmen a few times, looking into the holes between the stones, but the promised tupperware box was nowhere to be found. I guess I am not a good treasure hunter after all.

My next destination was the Dunhill Castle.

This is a look down from the hill. I could see all the world from there. The weather was unusually warm and humid, with not a slightest breeze. Humming and buzzing of insects were the only sounds that disturbed that tranquil wilderness.

This land was not always so peaceful. Unlike many others, Dunhill castle put up a resistance to Cromwell, and was destroyed by the artillery. In 1912, the east wall collapsed during a storm.

Inside the castle.

These steps lead to the first floor, but I didn’t climb them, unsure if I could make it there without railings, let alone get down.

Look from inside the castle.

Another look from inside the castle, this time at the Anne Valley. Anne River was navigable in the times of the Dunhill Castle glory. You can see the ocean in the distance.

Anne river is rushing to join the Ocean. You can read more about this stretch of the valley in Jane Tubridy blog post, because she walked there, and I just drove 🙂 .

And this is where we started our walk, just a mile away, Anne River all adorned with the Crowfeet weeds, with The Dunhill Castle silhouette in background.

I stop at the car park at the foot of the hill to have a closer look at the horses I saw from the castle window. Anne River is slightly deeper here, and runs silently, without cheerful gurgling. Knobby Club Rush is rustling in the wind, …

… delicate Ragged Robin gently trembles in the breeze.

Foxgloves look almost fluorescent under the dark canopy of the trees on the hill slope. I love their spotted trumpets and the strings of the sturdy buds.

In my next blog, I will write about the place where Anne River meets the Ocean. Hope you enjoyed the trip, and here is a Field sparrow for you to make you smile. He looks surprised because he didn’t see me come.

Ah, about the other geocache – I just forgot to look for it! 🙂