Pereira maintains he met him one summer's day.
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| Ballinaskea |
This opening line includes an eponymous clue - Tim Winton's Cloudstreet, back in the fifth post, engaged us by asking that we look at them by the river.
For this walk, we were three and had parked in Glenmalure just below the Youth Hostel and headed up towards Lugnaquillia, the Lug, Ireland's second highest mountain, 925 m amsl. We found a red flag to indicate live firing in Glen Imaal Artillery Range so we chose to walk under the cliffs in Fraughan Rock Glen.
It was a spectacularly beautiful day with a vista limiting haze but windless and warm. Warm enough that we worried about the tadpoles being boiled alive in the evaporating puddles on the loggers road. Warm enough that sunscreen was required after we took our jackets off. Warm enough that Red Hugh's frostbitten toes seemed unreal as did the methods we imagined might have been used to remove them, without anesthetic, all relevant because it was to the sanctuary of the O'Byrnes here in Glenmalure that he was brought that winter in 1593.
We clambered up beside the falling stream, framed by fallen, logged timbers. It was ankle twisting and knee jarring both up and down but quite manageable if you kept your eyes on the ground. MiniMan did a deal and we stopped shortly after the Walkmeter angel announced the two hour mark. Which found us just below the North Prison at the Lug, bracketed between Benleagh to the north and Corrigasleggaun to the south. We'll be back one day, maybe soon.
It was a spectacularly beautiful day with a vista limiting haze but windless and warm. Warm enough that we worried about the tadpoles being boiled alive in the evaporating puddles on the loggers road. Warm enough that sunscreen was required after we took our jackets off. Warm enough that Red Hugh's frostbitten toes seemed unreal as did the methods we imagined might have been used to remove them, without anesthetic, all relevant because it was to the sanctuary of the O'Byrnes here in Glenmalure that he was brought that winter in 1593.
We clambered up beside the falling stream, framed by fallen, logged timbers. It was ankle twisting and knee jarring both up and down but quite manageable if you kept your eyes on the ground. MiniMan did a deal and we stopped shortly after the Walkmeter angel announced the two hour mark. Which found us just below the North Prison at the Lug, bracketed between Benleagh to the north and Corrigasleggaun to the south. We'll be back one day, maybe soon.
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