the four green fields blog3:the burren

[Where we were. Photo is mine.]

Burren (‘b^ren0 n. A limestone area on the North Clare coast in the Irish Republic, famous for its wildflowers, caves, and dolmens.

The Burren is a lot of things. It’s a place in Ireland, a route to tour, and a UNESCO Heritage Site. To me, it’s something else altogether.

It’s mysterious and mythic.

When I first encountered the Burren, it was in 1984 while driving through Northwest Ireland to attend an Egan Clan reunion. My father was driving so I saw it from the passenger window of a rent car. My face was plastered against the glass. I remember it rained that day. Recalling the weather from forty years ago is not something most people can do, but I’ll never forget the way the fog hung low, just above the uneven pavement of limestone that seemed to extend off into a misty dreamscape. We got out to take photos and I thought that I could easily just keep walking off, stepping over the pitted surface, and just keep going. Perhaps a voice called out to me. Maybe it was my constant desire to find a quiet place, even if it was in the rain, even if it was in a place I knew nothing about.

I next drove through the region in 2015 with Mariam and my son, Brian. That day was clear, bright and sun-splashed, but the desire to just walk off and sit in a nook or by a gorse bush, or a patch of wildflowers was there. I still heard the voice.

Then, just a few days ago, Mariam and I were staying in Ennis, just at the edge of the National Park. I was worried about my back and foot problems. Would I be able to even walk 100 meters? A kilometer?

It was unseasonably warm, not characteristic of Ireland in any part of the summer. We walked off to explore.

I was doing what I had thought about for nearly half a century. We walked 1.3 and 1.5 km’s on two separate days. I was too uncomfortable in the heat to even think of camping or just sitting. On the limestone fields, the sun was relentless. But I was out there.

I was heeding that voice I heard so many decades ago. And, I have no doubt that no matter where I walk, or camp, or stroll, be it in a wilderness, or a city park, I will hear the voice urging me on…

Enjoy the photos:

[On the Burren. Photo is mine.]

[Some of our hike was under the trees and in the welcome shade. Photo is mine.]

[Mariam, walking pole in hand, prepares to pass through a narrow gate in the stonewall. Photo is mine.]

So, there’s my story of the Burren and the Voices.

Coming up in a few days: A vacant church in a old churchyard cemetery and a visit with my Irish relations. Stay tuned…