Crosshaven Roulade

Quiet early morning finds me where the sweetest waters flow. I am where I always wanted to be, in Crosshaven, a place much loved by my parents, Donal and Imelda. Back in the days when I was a boy we holidayed up in Fennell’s Bay and watched the great ships sail out to sea. We saw the seabirds fly and land on the high cliffs up above Church Bay. The salty waters of the Atlantic Ocean splashed on our red and sunburned faces and our toes were spiked and split by many of the sharp-edged stones and rocks that lay in hiding. The gritty sands were sandwiched to our feet and we fished for mackerel in the forlorn hope that one day we would halt their run. No such luck but, we did not care, we were carefree, we were searching for our place in nature’s habitat and never once did we think that it might be at risk and would need to be loved and minded, just like the rest of us.
My mother, Imelda, loved to watch the boats roll in and liked to watch the fishermen continue their work on the quayside armed with steely hands that not even the fish could slip through. I think she knew that Crosshaven had many layers to it, that it was a coat of many colours and home to multi-tasking ever before it dawned on the marketing boys and girls. A clever girl was my mum. I think she thought that Crosshaven was like one of her old fashioned Swiss rolls, full of curdling cream, jam and sponge, topped off with a big blob of icing for dessert.
My father Donal and my much loved Uncle Joe, spent much time on the rocks with a fishing rod for no good reason that I can remember. If Fungie on his way to Dingle had passed by, they would have missed him. Such was the power of the local brew!!!
My family always felt that Crosshaven is a gift of nature. It is a kaleidoscope of colour that paints its way out through Cork Harbour where it opens out to the great blue sea. It is a blend of river and sea, lake and pool, wood and valley. The journey starts when the river, Owenabue, meanders its way through Carrigdhoun and Carrigaline under many bridges, and heads for “Crosser” as Crosshaven is fondly known. Along the way there is a guard of honour of dappled green trees, hedges and wildflowers. The band often strikes up, made up of tweeting birds, humming birds, and bees busy with their buzzing. The Owenabue pauses at boat filled Rabbit Island and Drakes Pool. It stops, as if in silence so that you can watch the herons dive and fly away again. You can see the insects buzz and fizz and see the painted butterflies whizz by. If your luck is in, some cheeky otters might just splash their way into your life.
Down all the days, Crosshaven has best been defined by its people. Many of them are locals but the rest of us just could not resist. It is a life of love at water’s edge. We are a team of many talents and interests and we are dedicated to preserving nature’s way on land and waterside.
Crosshaven tugs my heart and feeds my soul. This much I know, there is no place else I would rather be.
“I live by the river
I swim by the sea
I go where the wildflowers
Are waltzing with me”