In which we schmooze with gravity and spray-painted sheep (Ireland part IV).

The next day we decided to check out the northern coast of the peninsula. We thus hopped in the car and drove up until we ran out of road, then kept going on foot until we ran out of land. This northerliest nose of the peninsula was home to a cluster of homes, one pier, and lots of lobster holiday homes. The water was still enough to reflect the storm sneaking up over the mountains, and it rank of fish. Mom chatted up a lobsterman as a small boat came in and eavesdropping on his way of speaking was most enjoyable. Mom proudly told him we were (sort of) from Maine and (sort of) knew about lobstah fishin', which he seemed to respect. Very friendly.

 

 

A little path leading up and over the pier brought us to some incredible rock formations, all jagged and slanted and layered. A geologist's playpen. Various kind of moss and flowers grew out of the grassy bits tucked in here and there. All sorts of crannies to explore while avoiding the slippery patches of seaweed/twisted ankles/surprise flying lessons/mighty head clunkings.

We then drove back down the nose and west toward Brandon Mountain, wanting to picnic with the most ocean in view as possible. Up, up, through little towns and sheepy fields, up, up until the road ended in a small parking lot looking over the edge of the world. There were a few other people there, including some Americans. At one point while looking over the water, someone shouted out that there was a whale and, sure enough, waaay out there, there it was. I only saw its back arching out of the water a couple times, but whatever! How often do you see whales just kinda doin' their thing? (But don't strain your eyes on this picture -- no whales to be seen here:)

There was a gate and path leading up the mountain through some very steep pastures, so we set off to see how far we could get and to picnic with the locals. Said locals weren't too concerned with our presence, though they sure made us watch our step thanks to their fertilizer presents. Nearing the edge of the cliff, we could see sheep grazing on the very, very steep slopes below. I had to marvel at this -- one little flicker of the gravitational force and they'd all be flying toward their final salt bath.

The sun dropped in for a sandwich or two during our lunch break, but then took off again without so much as a please or thank you. It started raining once we'd ascended many meters and we decided to play it safe and not end our vacation by slipping off the mountain. So back to the car it was, and back home.

The evening cleared up splendidly so we went for another stroll down to the lake, this time joined by a neighborhood dog who had no sense of stranger danger and was go for a good scratching. I don't get much dog time here in the city, so I'll take any chance I can get for puppy cuddling.

 

One sight that we enjoyed seeing again and again were the calla lilies in bloom all over the place. Perhaps overly romanticized by Georgia O'Keeffe, I was surprised (after looking them up in the Wikipedia just now) to learn that the name for calla lily (zantedeschia aethiopica) in Afrikaans, "varkoor", translates as "pig's ear". That romantic enough for you? Or how about this: "Z. aethiopica contains calcium oxalate, and ingestion of the raw plant may cause a severe burning sensation and swelling of lips, tongue, and throat; stomach pain and diarrhea may occur." So kiddies, not for vegetarians, or anyone really who does not enjoy being miserable.

Then again, they are so lovely and elegant. (Maybe I should pay closer attention to the ears the next time I see a pig. Are they lovely and elegant, too?)

'Nuff for now. More Grand Adventures to come.